


Ride And Die

by tristinai



Series: Bad Decisions [11]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst and Smut, Background HankCon - Freeform, Blowjobs, Canon Elements, Character Death, Coercion, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Human AU, Impersonation, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, POV Alternating, Reed1800 love triangle, References to Sex, References to Sex Work, Sexual Harassment, Suicidal Thoughts, Tina300, Torture, Unhealthy Obsession, drug usage, dumbasses making dumbass decisions, gavin x nines, hinted RK900 x Chloe, implied Ralph900, pre-android Detroit, reed900, referenced pedophilia, referenced sex trafficking, references to murder, references to rape, suicidal behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 113,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21615226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristinai/pseuds/tristinai
Summary: Months after Kamski's death, Gavin's started a life with Nines. Everything is picture-perfect and he's convinced one of Detroit's most elusive hit men has changed his ways. Yet, no matter how good life seems, he just can't shake the sense that something seems off about his happiness.A sequel to Russian Roulette [Bad Decisions].
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Series: Bad Decisions [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1280879
Comments: 321
Kudos: 331





	1. Copycat

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! After a brief hiatus from writing, I'm back with more for this verse. For the time being, I'll be keeping this sequel separate from the series until I decide what it is I want to do with it. Part of me wants to consider this a "what if?" AU while another part of me would like to say, "This is always where I envisioned the characters would end up AFTER the events of Russian Roulette". We'll see how I feel about this as this fic gets updated. Anyone wishing to read this should read [Bad Decisions](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1280879) first. 
> 
> There is alternating third-person POV in this fic so anticipate that it will jump about between different perspectives. For now, the main focus is Gavin, RK900, and Nines, but other viewpoints may be introduced in the future. Unlike most of Bad Decisions, this fic will follow a format most similar to the concluding chapter of [Russian Roulette](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19042921). And, like a lot of what I write, I don't commit to a specific ending but determine the best one based on the journey the characters have been on. I know it's a coin toss to read anything I write but I want to try and do justice to the narrative. There will be **character death** in this story so be aware of the updated tags and author's notes. 
> 
> Special thanks to [DeviantAlicee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviantAlicee) for letting me bounce ideas off of her and just being an amazing person in general. I most likely would have left this story to rot on my laptop for all eternity without her encouragement. I will also extend a heartfelt thanks to [FallLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallLover) for putting up with my bullshit and taking the time to edit the crap I write. You are an incredibly lovely and patient person and deserve nothing but <3 for the help you've given me. Thanks again <3!
> 
> Updates will be roughly every two weeks as we enter the holiday season (sorry, guys - I work 6 days a week until I go on holidays!). Each chapter should be about 10k+ so I hope the extra length makes up for it. All chapter titles are a Billie Eilish song.
> 
> Happy reading~

_October 2040_

Soft jazz music carries out onto the balcony where he’s leaning, a cigarette dangling between his lips. The night is cool, gentle breeze tickling the blond hairs of the back of his neck, his processor noting the temperature, wind speed, and moisture in the air. Useless information for what he’s been sent to obtain this evening obscures his vision, his current objective sitting in his peripheral:

**[Retrieve Client List]**

He ignores it for the time being, allows himself this one moment of self-indulgence. He inhales slowly from his cigarette, savoring the sweet taste of nicotine as it fills his lungs. It’s one of the few luxuries not locked behind a wall of red and for that, Nines must grudgingly acknowledge the mercy his mother has shown by allowing him to continue what she calls a “despicable failure in self-control”.

Cunt.

“Are you still out here?”

Internally, Nines grimaces. Externally, he wears a coy smirk, parts his lips to let the smoke spill into the air, twisting in tiny puffs until it dissipates completely. A pair of dark eyes blown in lust follow the movement, dropping pointedly to his mouth. Nines doesn’t need to scan Marcel, can tell merely from the banker’s body language precisely what he’s thinking. With Nines’ impeccable physique, blond locks, and dark-glasses, he must look like some golden Adonis ripe for tasting. Add the posh accent and from the moment Nines showed up at Marcel’s loft, the man’s been putty in his hands.

“I was just finishing this,” Nines says, discarding the butt of his cigarette in the nearby ash tray.

Marcel rakes his eyes hungrily over Nines, his arousal evident in the slight bulge pressing against his tailored pants. The banker leans in close, his fingers grazing the edge of Nines’ hip as he whispers, hoarsely, “You can always smoke inside.”

“I would not want to impose.”

His voice lilts as he twists away before the banker can cup his ass, silently furious that he needs to subject himself to being pawed at by some perverted Wall Street investor but forced to wear a coquettish smile anyway.

_Anything to keep the clients happy,_ Chloe had said, as if she wasn’t all but prostituting him to an old acquaintance. Marcel pulled out of Cyberlife after Kamski’s death and has been approached by some of their competitors in the medical field. Chloe’s since been trying to bring him back into the fold, though Nines sees little value in courting a sleazy banker. He never liked dealing with Marcel before and can’t say his feelings on the subject have changed.

“I don’t mind,” Marcel answers, moving confidently forward to once again invade Nines’ personal space. Nines’ visual component detects the faint trace of powder on the banker’s nostril:

**[C17H21NO4]**

Nines tenses. He can already feel that itch that always hits him every time he’s around stimulants and all he needs to do is discreetly dart his eyes into the loft and he immediately spots the lines that have been cut on the glass coffee table.

Cocaine. It’s been years since he’s done it and he’s hit with a wave of temptation that makes him drop his guard, even as rough lips find his neck. He’s not certain _how_ cocaine would affect him, as his olfactory system is mostly synthetic, but given everything he’s been through, one hit couldn’t hurt…

He smoothly steps out of the banker’s grip, smirking playfully. His more immediate reaction was to slap the lecher away but, of course, his anti-aggression software _had_ to kick in. “I thought I was here to talk business.”

“This _is_ business,” Marcel replies and Nines wants to roll his eyes at how predictable the man’s being.

His meaning is clear: let me fuck you or say goodbye to my potential investment. Nines is sure it’s how Marcel has gotten away with his obnoxious behavior for so long: he’s not used to hearing ‘ _no’._ But, unfortunately for him, Nines has been telling him ‘no’ for years, even if Marcel can’t recognize him now.

“Then perhaps we should take this ‘meeting’ somewhere more comfortable,” Nines suggests.

He feels Marcel’s eyes on his backside as he enters into the loft. The place is as Nines remembers it: pristine as if it’s never been lived in, furnished to accommodate Marcel’s more rustic taste. The selection of alcohol remains as it had been the last weekend Nines had spent here and he makes for the liquor cabinet, pulling out two tumblers and the bottle of McClellan that Kamski always preferred.

“On the rocks or straight?”

Marcel flops down on the couch. “There’s nothing straight about me, baby.”

Nines grips the tumbler so tightly, it shatters in his right hand. He can feel his temple burning, even if his LED is not exposed, and blue droplets splatter onto the cabinet.

There’s only one man he wants calling him that.

“Everything alright there?”

His skin is already peeling away—a reflexive reaction he never seems to control when he gets this angry—and Nines hastily says, “My apologies. I will clean this up.”

Luckily, Marcel doesn’t even look his way, is bent forward and snorting another line. That desire to join him hits Nines so hard, his stress levels skyrocket. He needs to reduce them, gain control, or he will expose himself to the banker. It doesn’t help that every moment spent in the man’s presence reminds him of how much he can’t stand Marcel.

Why in the hell did he let Amanda and Chloe send him out here in the first place?

He takes one of the napkins and swipes away the thirium that’s dribbled from his cut finger. Tossing it in a small bin near the cabinet, Nines isn’t the least bit concerned about this being what outs him as a cyborg. He doubts Marcel’s the kind of person who sifts through trash bins and even if he is, the traces of thirium will disappear once the banker’s no longer high.

Calming himself, he waits until his synthetic skin fully covers his hand before retrieving a new glass and pouring their drinks. With Marcel distracted, Nines drops a small pill into the banker’s whiskey: a variant of a date rape drug Chloe cooked up in her lab. As much as Nines has grown to despise her, he can’t deny her brilliance in the field of chemistry. Besides creating thirium and red ice, she’s also concocted a drug that should knock the banker out within minutes of consumption and make it so he remembers neither what happened immediately before nor after he takes the drug.

Reminding himself to wear a pleasant and sultry smirk, he saunters back to where the banker sits.

“Shall I propose a toast to our future partnership or do you still insist on playing ‘hard-to-get’?” Nines asks, handing him his drink.

“I don’t think I’m the one playing hard-to-get, Niles,” the banker answers.

It’s hard not to curl his mouth in disgust when Nines hears that name. He detests the persona almost as much as he detests speaking with a stupid accent and having blond hair. His new face, he can live with. But it’s who he’s forced to live without—and the abomination that gets to live the life he was promised—that fills Nines with a contempt rooted so deep in his flesh, it makes his insides churn.

With a laugh, Nines swirls his drink before taking a small sip. He intentionally lets a drop dribble off his lips, his gray eyes flicking across Marcel’s body with interest. “You presume to know me so well, Mr. Van Houton.”

“I know your type, Niles,” the banker says. As Nines predicted, Marcel swipes his thumb across the cyborg’s chin, collects the drop of whiskey. Nines’ scanner picks up the banker’s increased heartrate. “I’m not easily fooled.”

With a grin, Marcel leans back, throws an arm over the back of the sofa. He takes a swig of his drink, swallows half of what’s in his glass. The drug is tasteless so he’s none the wiser. “You gonna do a line?”

At this point, Nines will need at least two to get through the rest of this irritating exchange.

Smirking, Nines bends over in a way that gives Marcel a nice view of him from behind, feels how that lust-filled gaze rakes over his torso. But he’s far more interested in what sits in front of him, feeling a warm thrill of anticipation for when the drug hits his system.

And, of course, _that_ is the moment that pain prickles along all his nerves and a wall of red prevents him from closing those last few inches to line a nostril with the rolled up $100 bill he’s gripping.

_You have got to be kidding,_ he thinks, unable to keep himself from sneering. _I am not even allowed to enjoy_ this?!

His objective flashes before him and Nines has no choice but to abandon his attempt at some recreational ‘fun’. He recalls far too many instances in his teen years when his mother lectured and grounded him for his drug use, even forcing him into a summer rehab stint. So it shouldn’t surprise him she would include software that prevented him from indulging in his old vices.

“Another time, perhaps,” Nines says, hiding his disappointment. He drops the bill and sits back on the couch, leaning in close enough that Marcel can feel his body heat. His fingers trail down the banker’s chest, teasing the edge of Marcel’s pants. They linger close but don’t quite touch the erection straining against the fabric. “I am far more interested in something _else_ at the moment.”

Marcel finishes off his drink before setting it on the coffee table.

With a low sound, he tugs Nines onto his lap and Nines lets him, even as he inwardly shudders at the banker’s rough handling of him. It’s not that firm, possessive grip that pisses him off – sure, it’s farther than he’s allowed Marcel to go in the past – but that there’s only one man’s hands he wants touching him like this. The reminder leaves a dull ache throbbing in his chest.

With Marcel grasping his ass and trying to force Nines down against his cock, the ex-gangster ghosts his lips over the banker’s. Nines releases a breathy gasp, though he’s the least bit aroused. He can’t be certain if it’s the company or his components. In truth, he can’t remember the last time he’s gotten hard and he absently wonders if that is also his mother’s doing.

_That_ is a rather disturbing thought.

He pushes it aside, pulls the banker’s lower lip between his teeth and bites. Just hard enough that it makes the other man give a low moan.

“Y-you remind me of someone,” the banker says.

He shudders as Nines tugs at his tie.

Bemused, the cyborg says, with a coy smirk, “I would much rather you not compare me to that escort service you use. I can assure you, Mr. Van Houten, that what I have to offer is far more valuable.”

“S-so full of yourself,” Marcel slurs, his eyes beginning to droop. He struggles to keep them open, a lecherous smirk on his lips. Even his grip on Nines has loosened, fingers only barely grasping his hips. “Jusss like...”

He doesn’t finish the thought, head falling back against the sofa. He’s out cold.

With a grimace, Nines disentangles himself. He wants to shower, scrub away the feel of those hands on him, that revolting cologne that overpowers his own and seems to cling to his clothing. He adjusts himself, smooths out the wrinkles in the suit specifically tailored for this assignment: a rich navy that brings out the grays of his eyes. He’s gotten so used to wearing turtlenecks that it’s almost strange to be back in a suit but it’s not an unwelcome change from what’s become his new normal.

“Digging the tactleneck, babe.”

Arms curl around his waist, gripping him tightly. Nines feels a tightness in his chest, recalls relaxing when Gavin had hugged him from behind, his lips playing with the edge of Nines’ hairline, the bit of skin on the back of his neck peeking out from the black fabric. The memory is so vivid and crisp, as if Nines is reliving the moment as it plays out in his mind. He recalls the lingering scent of Irish Spring, the damp locks of hair that matted against Gavin’s forehead from his recent shower. Light stubble had tickled the back of his neck as Nines prepared breakfast, the sound of the food sizzling in the frying pan before him.

“The what?” Nines had asked, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

“The tactical turtleneck—the tactleneck. You even watch that clip of _Archer_ I sent you last week?”

_Yes,_ Nines had thought. _I have wasted countless hours of my life watching every inane thing you send me._

He remembered specifically what Gavin had been referring to. But he feigned disinterest because he hadn’t wanted Gavin to know he was in that deep, would watch and re-watch the pointless gifs and memes the detective sends him when out on the job because every one of them expressed part of Gavin’s personality, made him feel as if he understood the man better simply by viewing them. Despite Nines never being able to sit through movies or episodes of television shows, he still took time in his day to watch the mundane things Gavin sent via text.

“I had more important things to occupy my attention,” Nines had answered, dismissively. It was a lie and at that point, Nines was so used to lying about everything, it had rolled quite easily off his tongue.

Gavin had huffed, his breath sending a warm shiver down Nines’ spine. “You gotta watch it, babe. _Archer’s_ the shit.”

“You said the same about _The Avengers_ and I have yet to find the appeal of genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropists.”

“You didn’t even give it a chance,” Gavin had argued and recalling his petulance, even now, leaves a dull ache in the ex-gangster’s chest.

“I find it difficult to focus on a film when my mouth is otherwise _full_ ,” Nines had answered, turning in Gavin’s arms to face him. The hot blush had reached the tips of the detective’s ears and the gangster had smirked, his eyes dropping appreciatively to Gavin’s chest. It was long before Gavin had taken up his post-breakup gym regimen, when old muscle had softened to fat, though his bones, particularly his ribs, had jutted out from his negligent eating habits. It was a by-product of the detective’s depression but he had begun to eat regularly now that Nines was a constant in his life. Still, Nines had become so fond of Gavin, the particulars of his physique hadn’t bothered him in the least. It filled him with arousal to see those patterns of imperfect scars and trace his hands across skin he knew was only _his_. He would never have looked twice at men like Gavin, though more attractive than the average face, who had bodies that weren’t chiseled to perfection. Nines’ vanity had once been that toxic but he fell hard for Gavin and once he knew just how deep he was in, he could never again look at a face that wasn’t Gavin’s and feel that same desire burn for anyone else.

He had leaned down to nuzzle the line of Gavin’s jaw, snaked his arms to grip the detective tightly. Gavin had gasped when Nines’ thigh pressed between his own, the thin towel loosening on his hips. “I-I need to get ready for work, babe.”

Nines had chuckled, his breath hot as it tickled the edge of Gavin’s ear. “Then we had best be quick.”

As his lips crashed hungrily against the detectives, Nines forces the memory from his central processor. The sensation of hot olive flesh beneath his palms trickles away as Marcel’s unconscious face comes into focus. Disappointment leaves his insides twisting, that feeling of loss so familiar, it’s become a constant part of his existence. As much as it pains him, he finds he replays such memories often, sometimes involuntarily, as it’s the only way he can be with Gavin. For a brief moment, he can fool himself and uses the sensory receptors in his new circuitry to make him believe that it’s Gavin’s lips against his own, his detective’s warm skin sliding against him. He can pretend because without these brief moments of pretense, Nines truly has nothing to live for.

He glances over his shoulder, the red wall separating him from the source of his addiction. Recovery’s always been an ongoing struggle but Nines found his highs in other places. Contract killing always gives him a rush, particularly when it’s someone who enrages him. The closest he’s come to experiencing that same euphoria is in the height of his most intimate moments with Gavin. Now, without either, tethered by coding he can’t override, he attempts to strike the wall, feels the siren’s call of the stimulant singing in his veins. The words _DON’T_ _INGEST_ blare against the obstruction. He only makes it to the third strike before he snarls at the futility of it and glances around the loft.

**[Retrieve Client’s List]**

“I can see that,” he snaps.

Marcel’s vitals—breathing, heart rate, blood pressure—appear in his vision and he mentally shoves the information aside. The moron could overdose for all he cares. In fact, part of him hopes Chloe hadn’t considered the combined effects of stimulants with the drug Marcel ingested because he would love it if Marcel’s death in any way fucked with Cyberlife’s plans.

He scans the loft and is frustrated to find that Marcel’s laptop isn’t in the office downstairs but up above in the bedroom. It most likely contains what he’s been sent for. As he glances up to the top of the stairs, his mind reconstructs the figure that had leaned over the railing last summer, glaring down as Nines flirted with the same man now resting unconscious on the sofa.

_Not. Now._

He tries telling his brain this but he ends up stalking past the digital reconstruction of Gavin that glowers in his periphery. As Nines reaches for the laptop resting on the bed, his skin pulling back to begin the interface, the digital Gavin sits beside him at the edge of the bed and snarls, “What the fuck was _that?”_

Nines’ stomach drops as he hears himself respond from near the entrance, his tone incredibly dismissive. “A business call. As I mentioned earlier—”

“Was the business who’s gonna be sucking whose cock first? Because the only ‘business’ that fucker talked about was what was going on in his pants!”

He tries to stop memory from bleeding into reality. He doesn’t want to remember that vicious afternoon of fighting. As the arguing intensifies, Nines rips his hand from the laptop, grips at his head and releases a distorted sound. His heart pounding wildly, his mind is thrown into further chaos, reconstructing the room around him and preconstructing a variety of outcomes that he hadn’t considered at the time. Red bleeds into the edge of his vision, warnings of his central processor overheating flashing in his right visual component.

He shudders and shakes as he collapses to his hands and knees. Everything around him shifts, a digital environment that feels so real, he can taste the dew that clings to the air. The insidious scent of roses hits his tongue, making him want to gag.

“You need to calm down,” Amanda says, her tone somehow simultaneously soft and harsh.

“I—I cannot—”

“If you do not, a self-destruction command will initiate.”

Nines freezes. “You...gave me a self-destruction program?”

Her gaze is dark, eyes narrowed as she explains, with a forced calm hinting at her impatience, “A precautionary measure due to how unstable your CPU is. I had it installed when I reinforced your walls. Failure to keep your stress levels below 90% will prompt the program.”

“You are just telling me this _now?_!”

“Your attitude is not helping.” She grasps his chin hard, forces him to look up at her. There is nothing maternal or caring in the cool way she regards him. “I will say this once more: Calm. Down.”

And Nines is ripped from the Zen Garden, fingers tangled and tugging at locks of blond hair. He rises shakily to his feet, stumbles about the room as his vision blurs. His voice box echoes distortion, the digital reconstructions of his past arguing heatedly in different parts of the room. Preconstructed versions of them projecting potential outcomes pass through the space and it’s all so distracting that Nines can’t narrow his focus, is hyperventilating as his lungs fail to draw in air. A warning in bold counts the quickly climbing number of his processing power:

**[** **87.43...88.03...88.43…]**

He can’t let it reach 90.

He needs to focus on something calming, something to disrupt the disorder that’s making his CPU overheat.

“You are so fucking perfect.”

The words startle him out of his panic and he feels gentle fingertips caress his cheek. As Nines opens his eyes, he stares down into Gavin’s soft gaze. The unquestioning trust in the detective’s eyes, the words spoken with unshakable conviction, had left an icy sensation of guilt coursing through the gangster’s veins at the time because this was back before Gavin _knew_ , back when Nines had everything to lose.

Not trusting himself to not reveal everything, Nines had kissed him. He can still recall Gavin’s stubble as it scraped against his chin.

As his heart rate begins to slow, he clings for as long as he can to this one, quiet moment they shared. Gavin’s exhales falling to his lips. Sweat-slicked olive skin shuddering beneath his hands. He can still smell the thick scent of sex, still feel Gavin’s warmth.

All the reconstructions begin to fade, along with Gavin, the room silent as it comes back into focus. Nines stares down at the laptop, exhales heavily. Something wet drips down his cheeks.

With a grimace, he wipes away his tears. He tells himself it’s simply an involuntary response to the stress he’s endured.

It takes only a few minutes to interface and download everything he needs from Marcel’s laptop. Personal files reveal everything from the banker’s money laundering to his specific pornographic preferences. Nines usually wouldn’t bother retaining such data but he’s never been above a little blackmail. Also contained within the files are encrypted documents from a company called _Meditechniq._

Cross-referencing it with a detailed file on potential investments, Nines confirms its relevance. It’s one of the companies that’s been courting Marcel.

His objective satisfied, a new one appears:

**[Return to Cyberlife]**

He empties his tumbler of whiskey and, just to be safe, dumps the contents from the bin into a small plastic bag. He leaves Marcel on the couch: the banker will wake up with a severe headache in a few hours and will probably assume it’s the result of snorting so much coke with whiskey. He won’t remember a thing but Nines isn’t about to leave evidence of his presence in the loft.

He discards the plastic bag in the garbage chute before getting onto the elevator. As he exits, the concierge wishes him a good evening to which Nines replies with a charming smile. This building’s now owned by Cyberlife, as part of its expansion into the housing market, and if need be, the staff will know better than to confirm Niles Deckert was here on this night if anyone starts asking questions.

Stepping outside, Nines sees a limo waiting for him. The door’s already opened so Nines slides in, seats himself against the fine leather and stares placidly at the other occupant. Neither say anything until the vehicle begins to move.

“You have successfully retrieved the data?”

“Given the thoroughness of my objective-driven software, I doubt I would have been allowed to leave the residence until my mission was complete,” Nines answers, dryly. He drops the British accent and speaks with his own voice since he has no reason to maintain the pretense. Amanda’s personal driver—an LM100 she calls Jonathon—is an android with a CPU that’s integrated SWISH AI technology with the basic functions to respond to voice prompts. It’s not a true AI, like RK, and is incapable of independent thought. However, it looks human enough that so long as Jonathon is not forced into a complex conversation, it can remain under the radar as it chauffeurs Amanda—and, sometimes, Nines—around the city.

Amanda hands him a tablet. “That remains to be seen. Transfer the data.”

He glares at her, though his skin starts to peel away to initiate the interface. “When were you planning on informing me of my self-destruction program?”

“When it became relevant, as it had tonight.”

“The thought never crossed your mind that I should, perhaps, be _aware_ of my ability to self-destruct?”

“This was your first time entering the public under the persona ‘Niles Deckert’. In many ways, it was a test to see if you are ready,” Amanda says, not even bothering to answer his question. “I don’t think I need to tell you how you did.”

A crack appears in the screen from how tightly he grips the tablet. The unimpressed expression on Amanda’s face somehow deepens.

With the transfer complete, he hands the device back to her. “I was not expecting to be sent there tonight.”

“You need to anticipate the impact that memory can have on your reconstruction software. Tonight, the program was triggered because _you_ failed to focus on your task,” Amanda says, her tone sharp. “For all you’ve complained about how carefully we have been monitoring you, you’ve demonstrated how unprepared you are to return to society.”

“You have hardly given me the opportunity to _try.”_

“I am not having this argument again with you, Richard. You knew this was a one time operation. From now on, you will remain at Cyberlife until you can demonstrate you are able to control your mind palace.”

She looks through the files on the tablet, hardly giving Nines any attention as he silently fumes. As the thick tension stretches between them, Nines folds his hands on his lap. Just to be an asshole, he’s half-tempted to bring up the topic of anti-reproductive software, though multiple searches through his hard drive have led him to conclude such a thing doesn’t exist. Instead, he finds himself asking, “Is there a reason the other Niles Deckert was unable to be there tonight?”

He had wanted to inquire earlier, when the objective was first given to him. He had held his tongue, though, half worried that his questioning would have Amanda rethink the assignment. He had wanted to show her he was ready to be Niles Deckert—went in far cockier and with higher expectations. That he nearly fried his own CPU is a definite blow to his ego.

“He is otherwise occupied at another engagement. Sending him on a business outing would have raised too many suspicions.”

Nines doesn’t have to ask what that is. He can already guess. Perhaps, subconsciously, he’s known all along _what_ that engagement is.

The date appears in front of him, leaving a dull ache in his chest:

**[October 7, 2040]**

* * *

_Elsewhere, in the city_

Gavin frowns as he scrutinizes his appearance in the bathroom mirror for what feels like the fiftieth time in as many minutes. He gingerly brushes his fingertips against the bit of silver that’s dotting his hairline. Thirty-eight fucking years old. If he’s honest with himself, he’s half-surprised he’s made it this long.

“Don’t see why the fuck we have to go to some uptight, snooty restaurant. Coulda picked any old bar, woulda been just as good, babe,” Gavin grumbles.

In truth, he’s not at all looking forward to spending a night of drinking overpriced champagne and ordering off a menu where he can’t pronounce half the shit on it. If he had his way, they’d be drinking beers at Finnegan’s with Miller and Chen or spending the night in watching some of the classics. However, with the way things have been between him and Nines lately, he doesn’t want to complain too much, lest he hurt his boyfriend’s feelings.

Nines appears behind him and Gavin catches his boyfriend’s eyes in the mirror. All his displeasure melts away as he sees what Nines is wearing: a dark suit vest that fits snugly on his chest, outlining his pectorals, immediately draws the detective’s gaze to the muscles rippling beneath. Nines’ gray eyes look brighter behind his thick glasses, the powder blue tie on his neck bringing out their deep hues, and Gavin can already feel the stirrings of desire pool in his abdomen as they once again reclaim his attention.

Huffing in amusement, Nines forces Gavin to turn around, leans in close enough that the detective catches his familiar cologne, and begins to fix Gavin’s messy tie. “Tonight is a night worth celebrating. I was unable to be with you last year. I want tonight to be...special.”

Nines’ lips pull in a tiny frown and Gavin also feels discomfort at the reminder of how things were between them the year before. He remembers being completely miserable that night, going on month two of life after Nines, and getting wasted at a nearby gay bar with Tina. At some point, he ditched her to get his cock sucked by someone whose name he can’t remember and Tina lost her shit on him the next day since she spent the rest of the night trying to find out where the hell he was. He can’t even be sure if he felt shittier about hooking up or for bailing on her but he had to spend the next month getting his best-friend-cred back.

Feeling guilty once again, Gavin forces a grin on his face. “This why you got me all dressed up to the ‘nines’?”

Nines smirks. “I like to think of it as, ‘taking out the trash’.”

“Ouch, babe.”

Pressing in close, Nines grasps Gavin by the hip, noses along the edge of his jaw. The detective’s breath hitches and he can’t help it, is craving more of the ex-gangster’s touch. His pulse racing, he slides a hand up the back of Nines’ neck, exhales shakily when his boyfriend’s lips ghost against his. But the goddamn tease doesn’t even try to kiss him, chuckles as he gets Gavin worked up.

“If you are attempting to unwrap your ‘gift’ before we make it out of the penthouse, you will be sorely disappointed,” he says, pulling back when Gavin tries to press their lips together.

Gavin makes a face, tries to tug Nines back closer so he can finally steal that fucking kiss. “C’mon, babe. It’s my goddamn birthday! Doesn’t that mean you’re my slave for a day or some shit like that?”

“Is that what you want?” Nines asks, bemused.

“Fucking right it is.”

Nines disentangles himself from Gavin’s embrace. And he laughs. A loud, throaty laugh. Gavin glares at him.

“It is rather endearing that you think in a slave/master role play, _I_ would be the slave.”

“No, not—it’s just a thing people do! Like, you need to be nice to me and shit. And we do whatever the fuck I want because...you know, it’s my birthday.”

“We do whatever it is you want every day,” Nines points out.

_No,_ Gavin thinks, bitterly. _We actually don’t._

The rift between them has been growing for some time now. Gavin can’t pinpoint the moment it started but he recently began to notice that Nines is around a lot less. Random lunch breaks where his boyfriend pops in occur less and less frequently and most days of the week, Gavin’s already snoring away in their bed when Nines finally crawls in beside him. Nines is usually gone before Gavin wakes up and Gavin’s lucky if he gets to spend any part of his evening, or his days off, with the ex-gangster. He doesn’t want to complain, though, because this was the exact reason many of his exes had left him or cheated on him back when he was in his 20s and Gavin doesn’t want to be that kind of asshole who tells his boyfriend to choose between his partner and his job.

Still...why in the fuck does Nines even give a shit about Cyberlife? After Chloe fucked with both of them, he’d think Nines would want little to do with the company. Then again, maybe it’s because of his upgrades that Chloe’s got him by the balls and makes him attend all those press releases and conference calls with her.

When it comes to sex, well, that’s still happening. And it’s still fucking fantastic. But Gavin selfishly wishes he could have more of Nines to himself.

Nines seems to notice the mood Gavin’s slipped into and gently takes him by the hand. “I know I have not been around as much lately. However, after tonight, I hope you will see how serious I am about us, darling.”

Gavin’s gaze drops to where his hand sits in Nines’, the ring he wears glowing yellow. He then stares up at his boyfriend, mystified by what he could possibly mean.

Nines’ phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket. “The driver is here.”

“We’re not taking your Aston Martin?”

Damn. Gavin was hoping Nines would let him drive it again, at least before he spends the night tossing back champagne.

“We both intend on drinking tonight so I have made use of company resources.”

“Chloe let you have the limo? You’re really going all out.”

He lets Nines tug him out of the bathroom, Nines lacing their fingers together as he leads them to the elevator. Socks is running across the floor and weaves through Nines’ legs as he chases after a ball he’s flicking around, the bell on his collar chiming.

The cyborg makes a face.“Now I have cat hair on my pants.”

He begins to reach for the lint roller on the stand near the elevator.

“No time, babe.”

Gavin pulls his boyfriend inside with him. Nines attempts to leave but the detective won’t let him.

“Gav—”

He kisses him heatedly, Nines’ protests dying against his lips. Almost immediately, his boyfriend is responding, parting his lips to allow Gavin to slide their tongues together. It’s wet, wanton, and completely filthy and has the detective so hard by the time the elevator reaches the first floor, he has to bite back a whine to go back upstairs and finish what they started.

“We will be late for our reservation,” Nines says, a splash of color on his cheeks. He adjusts himself, even has to take off his fogged-up glasses and wipe off the lenses. He’s using his Niles voice now, sounds all him prim and proper. “Come, darling.”

Gavin smirks to himself. He loves mussing up Nines’ hair, doing anything to bring some of his chaos to the cyborg’s perfectly put together appearance. Nines’ vanity is something that hasn’t changed. If anything, with the new, gorgeous face he wears, the ex-gangster is constantly preening since any time he steps out, he might be called for an impromptu press release or a meeting with a potential Cyberlife investor.

Gavin’s really gonna have to talk to Chloe about cutting his boyfriend some fucking slack. Not that she would even take his calls. But it’s fucking ridiculous that even tonight, after being assured multiple times Nines has the night off, Gavin still feels anxious that Nines might be called away in the middle of their dinner.

He buries that uncomfortable feeling as they step outside. At least the weather’s nice, with only the hint of a breeze. A white limo sits outside the condominium entrance.

“Good evening, Mr. Deckert!”

“Ralph...” Nines starts, his tone highly critical. As Ralph practically falls out of the driver’s seat, his hat askew, Nines’ eyes narrow. “Do I want to ask how you ended up in such a state?”

Ralph grins widely, straightens up, and bounces on the balls of his feet. Pieces of colorful confetti stick to his hair and clothing, and streamers curl around his arms and legs as if the poor kid lost an epic fight against a pile of decorations. But it does little to dampen the kid’s mood. If anything, he seems more excitable than usual. “It’s the detective’s birthday! So Ralph helped!”

He all but throws open the door of the limo, smiling from ear-to-ear as Gavin and Nines peer inside. Colorful streamers, confetti, and balloons are strewn haphazardly across the floor and seats in an uncoordinated disaster, an uneven garland that reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY already half falling where it is suspended from the roof. The disapproval has Nines glaring incredulously at Ralph, who still looks far too pleased with himself.

“Ralph...”

Gavin hears the dangerous edge in his boyfriend’s voice and knows the ex-gangster is two seconds away from losing his shit on his ‘personal assistant’.

“It’s fucking great!” Gavin says, clapping Ralph’s shoulder enthusiastically. “Best fucking gift I got all day!”

Ralph’s eyes widen and he swears the kid’s almost having a heart attack from receiving such praise. It’s all the warning Gavin has before Ralph’s throwing his arms around the detective and hugging him tightly. Gavin grunts because damn, the kid’s got quite a grip, but then he’s awkwardly hugging Ralph back.

“Ralph knew the detective would like it!”

With an irate sigh, Nines says, “We have a _reservation_ , Ralph.”

Pulling back, Ralph makes a face. Something strikes Gavin very odd about the expression. “Ralph liked RK better before the change.”

...what the fuck does that mean?

Nines’ face is unreadable and Gavin can’t explain it but there’s something almost unsettling about the way the two stare at each other. Then, the ex-gangster’s lips curl in a sneer and he says, with quiet admonishment, “Ralph, you know we do not talk of Cyberlife affairs _outside_ of Cyberlife.”

Ralph looks as if he has more that he wants to say but instead, he falls into a quiet anger, shutting the door behind Gavin as he gets in after Nines. Nines makes a show of swiping off confetti from his seat before he settles stiffly onto the leather.

“What the hell was that about?” Gavin asks.

“Ralph is still upset that Chloe had to shut RK down,” Nines says, nonchalantly. “He was strangely attached to that machine.”

His gut is telling him that there’s more to it than that but Gavin notes the way Nines’ hands curl into fists on his lap. Whatever Ralph meant, it’s enough that all the warning signs are there for an argument and it’s one that Gavin’s in no mood to get into, especially when he really doesn’t give a shit about some creepy ass robot. The less of them in the world, the better.

An odd tension fills the limo as it makes its way to the restaurant. It’s clear that something is weighing on Nines’ mind and while these few quiet moments they’ve had are always thick with that fight Gavin’s been avoiding, he gets the sense that Nines is no more thrilled at being away so often as Gavin is. If he was Connor, Gavin would have cussed him out by now, accused him of being a selfish prick. If it was last summer, Gavin would have shifted the conversation to ‘ _them’_ and how Nines gives more shits about his work. But now that they’ve been living together and Gavin’s quickly approaching 40, he’s too old to have those fights that will have one of them storming out to either Connor’s (Nines) or Tina’s (Gavin) and ignoring each other for days.

Swallowing his pride—and fuck, is that one thick pill to swallow—he shifts to seat himself beside Nines and carefully takes one of his hands in his own.

The ex-gangster relaxes, entwines their fingers, and admits, quietly, “I wanted this night to be perfect.”

Gavin feels even more stupid for thinking about his own needs. Nines is trying and instead, Gavin’s complained about going to that restaurant and nearly argued over Nines being away a lot. “It already is.”

Nines plucks a piece of confetti from Gavin’s hair and raises a brow.

The detective chuckles. It’ll be days before he can get all the confetti out of his clothes and hair but he finds it hilarious. Still, he mentally reminds himself to not be a lazy fuck about it and make sure their clothes are rid of it before they go back home tonight. Socks, dumb shit that he is, might end up eating pieces of it.

Kissing Nines softly, the last of the tension leaves them as Gavin confesses, “Every day’s goddamn perfect with you, babe.”

He means it, too. They argue less and less, the worst of their arguments being light bickering over unimportant things, the way couples gently tease each other out of affection. Gavin no longer goes to sleep worrying Nines has been killed on the job or is knee deep in some felony that would see him thrown into max if he’s caught. Everything, besides Nines spending stupid amounts of hours at work, has been _good_. Too good, maybe.

...why does that bother him?

He tells himself he’s being moronic. He doesn’t miss dating a man who would gladly snap your neck if the price tag’s worth the trouble of hiding your body. He doesn’t miss the screaming matches and the anger that builds between them as the tension hits its expiration point and the cycle starts again. He also doesn’t miss any of the deception, or the desperation that had them crashing into each other’s arms every time they survived another near death encounter.

It was all bullshit. And Gavin doesn’t fucking miss _any_ of it. At all.

This is the life he _wants_. What Nines gave up so much for.

...so why isn’t he entirely happy?

“I feel the same,” Nines admits. The earnestness shining in his gray eyes has Gavin writing off his trepidation as nothing more than his bad habit of fucking with something that’s good. “I want to spend the rest of them with you.”

Gavin’s heart hammers and he kisses Nines’ deeply, tangles his fingers in those soft, blond locks, conveying everything he’s too overwhelmed to say. _His_ Nines has done everything to give Gavin the life he wanted for them and he’s not gonna mess it up with his dumb insecurities.

The car stops and they’re forced to break apart, the detective panting softly to catch his breath.

“We have arrived,” Nines whispers, his expression tender as he fixes Gavin’s tie once more.

_Petit Cheval_ is definitely not Gavin’s first choice for food, nor would it make the list of places he would want to spend the evening. Nines brought him here on their first date ever back in April and while Gavin had been more open to trying the dishes with their impossible-to-say names, he’s got a feeling he’s gonna be no more impressed with the food tonight than he was back then. The place is very charming, built in a quaint, two-story house and designed to look like the kind of building one would find in a quiet suburb in Paris. It stands in such contrast to the high rises of the business district but Gavin can’t deny that it has a rich, homey atmosphere and he can see how such places would appeal to snobs like Nines.

They pass through the tiny archway, decorated with small, white lights that weave through the roses. _Real ones_ , Gavin realizes, as their sweet scent fill the narrow space. Gavin is half tempted to pluck one—having developed quite the fondness for Nines’ preferred flower, though he’d never own up to it—but Nines is taking his hand and pulling him through the thick, oak door.

“We are later than I expected,” Nines admits.

Gavin rolls his eyes, about to make some quip about the cyborg and his obsession with schedules, but the words die on his tongue as he takes in the sight of the room: candles light every surface, giving a gentle glow that makes the lavish interior more comfortable, more inviting than Gavin remembers. Rose petals litter the hardwood floor, leading to the single table that’s been placed in the center of the room. On top of it, a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice and two flutes. All of it reminiscent of the times Nines had tried to do this last year.

But now, there’s no Kamski. There’s nobody to stand in the way of them and ruin their evening with life-threatening ultimatums.

Gavin’s throat is thick as he allows Nines to gently lead him towards the table.

“Darling,” Nines begins. His throat is thick with emotion, makes this distorted sound. He’s no longer speaking as Niles but using _his_ voice, the one Gavin’s heard utter throaty moans during intimacy and whisper heartfelt confessions in moments of rare vulnerability. “Gavin, my love. I meant what I said about wanting to spend the rest of my days with you.”

He stops, drops to his knees, and Gavin’s so stunned, his heart pounding that much harder, he half expects it to explode in his rib cage. His eyes well as Nines pulls a small, velvet case from his pocket, the LED on the detective’s finger rapidly spinning red.

“Will you marry me?”

* * *

Niles has been aware for some time of Gavin’s growing dissatisfaction with their relationship. It manifests in small ways: from the clipped way the detective sometimes addresses him to the way Gavin will brush off Niles’ inquiries into his wellbeing, despite that everything in the detective’s body language indicates the opposite of what the detective claims. Gavin’s reluctant to have an argument—something that surprises Niles, from what he has come to learn of the abrasive man—yet Niles has wanted to do something that would prevent that argument from becoming an inevitability.

“Make a grand gesture,” Chloe had suggested the other day, not looking up from her tablet. Niles had stood rigid in front of her desk, head tilted in quiet observation. In the privacy of Chloe’s office, Niles often abandons Stern’s profile as there is no need to convince Chloe of anything. Amanda doesn’t like it yet Niles has noted that Chloe prefers him to be less like ‘Nines’ around her. It puts her more at ease. “The data you’ve provided from your interactions with the detective has allowed us to make the necessary updates to your social cues. It’s been invaluable. You must do whatever it takes to keep Detective Reed happy.”

“What would you suggest, Director?”

That was when Chloe finally looked up from the messages she was reviewing. A slow smile had spread over her lips. “His birthday’s coming up soon, right?”

It’s what led to the proposal, to Gavin saying, “Yes” and kissing Niles so fervently, the android feels his circuitry heat in a way he isn’t used to. Tears stream openly down the detective’s face and if Niles wasn’t reassured by his software that the detective is crying out of joy, he would have been prepared to inflict harm on the source, even if his programming prevents it.

_A result of Richard Stern’s profile,_ Niles deduces.

Yet even now, a discomforting sensation makes him question if that is the case.

Gavin finishes off the flute of champagne, laughs softly as he stares down at their joined hands. The engagement ring, a simple band of platinum, sits above the LED, which has now settled to a warm blue. Niles’ scans indicate Gavin’s happiness. He’s never seen the detective look this happy, bright eyes shyly darting up to the android’s as a smile fails to leave his face. Unable to help himself—again, simply part of Stern’s profile that’s become second nature—Niles bends down and softly kisses his fiancé.

“You gotta order for me tonight, babe. Pretty sure I can’t say half the shit on their menu,” Gavin says, chuckling against the android’s lips.

Niles smirks, is relieved when he detects that Gavin is no longer upset over the locale. Niles chose it simply for sentimentality—since places where one had a first date are popular for proposals. It also, incidentally, happens to be one of the few places that would hold meaning to Gavin but does not have any connection to the real Richard Stern. Not that this information is entirely relevant to Niles.

Sure, Niles had Chloe buy out the restaurant for the evening specifically for privacy. But he is also very attentive to Gavin’s desires and would not want to do anything to cause his partner displeasure on such an important occasion.

“You do not think I would make you eat food you detest on your birthday,” Niles teases.

“Babe, what…?”

Niles pulls Gavin towards the door. “This is only the first half of your gift, my love.”

There’s a reaction in his software, something that makes his thirium pump stutter. A warning appears in the corner of his vision, reminding him that the term of endearment is not compatible with the profile he’s running. For whatever reason, Niles ignores it.

The blush in Gavin’s cheeks deepens but the grin doesn’t leave his face as they walk hand and hand down the street. With a gentle sigh, Gavin rests his head on Niles’ shoulder and says, “You didn’t have to get me anything, babe. Fuck, pretty sure half the assholes I work with don’t even know today’s my birthday.”

“I would not be so sure of that, detective.”

Arriving at their destination, Niles leads Gavin inside the pub. Immediately, they’re met with a shout of SURPRISE! from the people sitting around the bar and tables and Gavin’s gaze is once again watery as he takes in the sight of the room. Tina and Chris hoot at him from where they’re sitting, Grace on the other side of Detective Chen, and Chris’s girlfriend seated across from her. Other officers and staff cheer and some come over to clap Gavin on the shoulder, including Captain Anderson, who grins and says, “Happy Birthday, you grumpy sack of shit!”

“Look who’s talking, you miserable old prick!” Gavin snaps back but he’s returning Hank’s hug and Niles can tell the detective is struggling not to cry. He almost loses it when Tina all but jumps on him, laughing and saying, “Happy Birthday, Gav! You gonna cut your cake or you gonna make us wait another hour, you old man!”

“Like you’re ever on time to shit, Chen! You fucking made us late to work on Tuesday!”

“I wasn’t expecting Ser Davos to get onto the roof, Gav!”

They bicker a bit more before Tina tugs Gavin impatiently to the table where his birthday cake and gifts sit. Everyone, including Niles, breaks into song and while Niles has never sung before, his voice carries with the rest in perfect pitch. He notes that most, if not everyone else, sings out of key and decides to bring it up with Cyberlife as a potential anomaly. As far as he knows, Richard Stern—or, perhaps, the persona Niles Deckert—should not be able to sing in tune.

With the cake cut and Niles assisting Gavin in handing out slices to everyone, Tina elbows Gavin in the ribs and says, none-too-discreetly, “Nice ring, Gav.”

Red reaches the tips of Gavin’s ears but there is a softness to his expression that seems to make Niles’ thirium pump momentarily operate out of sync. “Yeah. It is.”

Tina’s expression is warm as she leans in close and says, quietly, “I’m happy for both of you. Congratulations.”

She takes two pieces for her and Grace. Niles predicts that there will be more said on their engagement shortly as there is a high probability that once all the pleasantries are exchanged, Gavin will drag Niles with him to Tina’s table to eat their cake.

“Hey, Con! Where the fuck are you going?” Gavin calls out to Niles’ ‘twin’.

Connor’s already in his coat and nearly out the door. He looks sheepish as many eyes turn to him. Though there is some obvious residual tension between Gavin and the lieutenant, with Niles’ own prompts to treat Connor coldly when they interact, Niles had felt that excluding the lieutenant from this gathering would not have been appropriate. Gavin’s grown closer to Hank in the last few months, slowly repairing a friendship that’s been on the rocks for years, and it would have been out of place to have only one of them show up.

“I need to get back to the precinct,” Connor says, somewhat embarrassed.

Niles deduces this is an excuse to leave the festivities before his presence becomes unwelcome. The unspoken rules of social etiquette had been more difficult for him when he first attempted to integrate into society. However, he has learned to pick up on these ‘rules’ and recognize the way people employ them as a means to avoid conflict.

“Gotta stay for some cake, Con. My birthday, my rules.”

Connor looks incredibly shocked but it’s soon replaced by a small, warm smile as he comes over and accepts the cake Gavin offers him. “I guess I can stay for a bit.”

Niles watches the exchange, fascinated by it. Even his probability software had anticipated that Connor staying was highly unlikely. Most of all, that Gavin’s encouraging Connor remain is not what he could have predicted.

“No need to always be such a stick in the mud. Gotta have a bit of fun every once in a while, Con,” Hank teases, gently elbowing his husband in the ribs.

Connor looks at the cake Hank’s holding with a slight frown. “Hank, your blood sugar—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

With a sigh, Hank walks back to their table, Connor following close behind to quietly berate the captain on his eating habits. Even if Hank pretends to be put off, Niles can tell that there is affection in the way he regards Connor. Niles knows little of their relationship, as his interactions with Connor have been very limited. Amanda cautions Niles against spending too much time with the lieutenant since she is concerned that between Gavin and Connor, Connor is more likely to figure out what Niles is.

“Come on, let’s have some cake,” Tina says.

She’s ordering drinks for their table as Gavin gets into the large booth beside Chris. Niles gets in beside him and feels Gavin immediately take his hand beneath the table.

“Happy Birthday, Gavin,” Niles whispers in the detective’s ear.

The smile Gavin gives him is warmer than any expression he’s ever seen on the detective’s face. Niles saves this in his data archives, deciding it is necessary to review this moment later to help him update his social programming. From where his hand sits in the detective’s, he feels Gavin squeeze.

**[Celebrate Detective Reed’s Birthday]**

The objective is one Niles gladly indulges. They stay at the bar for the next few hours, everyone at their table going through a few rounds of drinks. Niles makes it through a few bites of cake and some shots, initiates speech patterns and topics of conversation compatible with mild intoxication, though everyone else at their table is hardly paying him enough attention that they would comment on any behavior they find strange. All the attention’s on Gavin as Tina and Grace gush over the engagement and tease Gavin about the wedding plans.

At one point, Niles has to excuse himself to empty the contents of his artificial digestive component. His ‘stomach’ is only capable of absorbing and replacing the thirium he requires to remain fully functional so the food and alcohol sit in it until he expels it in a process not dissimilar from vomiting. It’s a bit bothersome and he requires frequent maintenance checks to have an engineer manually remove pieces of decaying food that get stuck in the component but it’s necessary to continue the facade.

As he exits the bathroom, his eyes dart over to where Connor and Hank are quietly conversing at the bar. Hank finishes off his drink and sets the empty bottle down, patting Connor’s shoulder before he’s dragged into a conversation with two of the officers seated nearby. Connor appears ready to follow after his husband but then his eyes meet Niles’ and it’s too late for the android to duck away and pretend he’s not noticed him. Connor’s body language indicates he has something he wants to say to his ‘brother’ and though Chloe and Amanda have advised Niles to avoid being in Connor’s presence for too long, Niles feels compelled to indulge his ‘twin’.

“You proposed to Gavin,” Connor says, speaking in a hushed voice.

It’s not exactly common knowledge, as no formal announcement was made to distract from Gavin’s birthday. However, Niles is aware that such a detail as the ring Gavin’s wearing would not escape the lieutenant’s critical eye.

“It is naturally the next step to take in our relationship,” Niles answers, coolly. He has no interest in antagonizing Connor but this response is deemed most appropriate given Nines’ jealousy of Connor’s past relationship with Gavin. “This will not be an issue for you, I presume.”

Connor furrows his brows, his expression difficult to read as he silently stares at Niles. Niles keeps his lips pulled in a thin line, expresses his own displeasure with only the hint of a glare. Inwardly, the android is concerned that something about his mannerisms might seem ‘off’ to the man he was informed would know Nines better than anyone else.

“You know exactly what I think of your relationship,” Connor finally says. And Niles does: the memories he had forced from Nines are compiled carefully in his storage and within a quarter of a second, he’s extracted the conversation the lieutenant is referring to: it was the night Nines had left Detroit with Ralph.

“You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to him,” Connor had said, to which Nines had made some snide remark about his leaving being ‘good’ for everyone. But then, Connor had shook his head, sighed in defeat, and muttered, “I can’t believe I’m saying this but you should see him before you go.”

“I though you ‘disapproved’?” Nines had sneered, bristling beneath the condescending ‘patience’ Connor directed at him.

“I may ‘disapprove’ but that doesn’t change how he feels about you,” Connor had reasoned. He had then poked Nines in the shoulder and Nines had swatted his brother’s hand away. “Or how you feel about him. You’ll regret it if you leave without seeing him one last time.”

And how right Connor had been. About all of that.

“You still disapprove.”

Connor’s quiet as he stares down at his barely touched drink. After a moment, he says, “I only want what’s best for him.”

“It was never you,” Niles responds and he sees Connor’s fingers curl tightly around the drink he detects the lieutenant has no motivation to finish. “So I believe that would make you the worst judge of _who_ Gavin chooses as a life partner.”

Deciding that he’s provoked Connor enough that the lieutenant would be too distracted to revisit his potential suspicions of Niles, the android turns to leave. But, of course, Connor always has to have the last word. “You’re wrong. That’s actually what makes me the best judge as I know Gavin and my brother better than they know each other.”

Something in the way Connor says it makes Niles cast a glare over his shoulder, a vicious retort sitting on his tongue. But Connor’s piercing gaze makes the android freeze and Niles suspects, with some alarm, that the lieutenant knows more than he’s letting on.

“Babe? C’mon, we’re gonna get going.”

Gavin tugs at Niles’ arm, the android and lieutenant now exchanging forced smiles. Connor wishes them a goodnight before rejoining Hank, his interaction with Gavin far less awkward than it had been earlier.

Niles chooses to store this conversation away for analysis again later.

With everyone calling taxis and getting ready to leave, Niles has Ralph bring the limo to the pub. He is still confused as to why Ralph had almost given away his identity: though Ralph’s never liked having to lie to Gavin, Chloe had been able to convince him why it was ‘necessary’ while Nines ‘recovered’. Thus far, Ralph has given Niles little trouble, yet Ralph’s attitude tonight unsettles Niles in a way the android can’t quite deduce. He thinks of the friendship bracelet that sits in his office desk back at the penthouse: risky, because if Gavin should ever find it, it would raise too many questions. But Niles cannot bring himself to throw it out. It’s the first thing anyone had ever given him and even in those moments alone, when he pulls it out and looks down at the frayed, braided thread, he begins pondering questions seemingly unprompted by any of his software or objectives.

Though Ralph is somewhat frosty with Niles, Ralph helps Tina and Chris put the gifts in the trunk while Gavin is helping a very inebriated Grace stand. She’s wobbling in her stilettos and ends up having to throw most of her weight on Gavin, which earns her some playful teasing from Tina.

“Iss’ not funny,” Grace moans, and then hiccups.

Tina snickers. “You really can’t hold your alcohol. I told you not to go shot-for-shot with me!”

“You always win,” Grace slurs, with a tiny pout.

“Aww, puddin’...”

Gavin helps her inside the limo but not before she flips off Tina. Even he can’t hold back a chuckle. “That’s what you get for being an asshole, Chen.”

“You’re a bigger asshole than I am! Right, Niles?”

“She does have a point, darling.”

“Hey, you gotta be nice to me. It’s my birthday,” Gavin says, jabbing him in the chest.

Niles ushers him inside and they sit across from where Grace is sprawled on her seat. Tina sits next to her and places Grace’s head in her lap, soothingly running her fingers through her girlfriend’s hair. Their interaction is very tender and it takes Niles a moment to respond to what Gavin said. “Actually, detective, since it is after midnight, it is technically no longer your birthday. I may treat you as I see fit.”

“Prick,” Gavin says, but with no real malice.

They try to convince Chris and his girlfriend to come with them but he insists on walking home, not living far from the pub. Then, it’s just a matter of bringing Grace and Tina back to their shared apartment. Grace needs a little assistance but once Gavin and Niles help her into the elevator, Tina assures them she can take it from there. She hugs Gavin one last time and, to Niles’ surprise, also pulls him in a warm hug. It disrupts his software and his response is belated but the affection in the gesture makes the thirium in his system pump harder.

“You did good tonight,” she tells him and he recognizes what that is.

Approval.

That is something he had yet to gain from her.

Even as they return to the limo, with its disorderly confetti and streamers, Niles notes a distinct change that’s come over Gavin since witnessing the exchange between him and Detective Chen. He’s come to understand that in social relationships, having one’s romantic partner accepted into a group of peers is a kind of benchmark that dictates the success of that relationship. With Detective Chen’s acceptance, Niles’ software is already accommodating for that change and he can detect a spike in Gavin’s vitals.

Almost as soon as the door to the limo shuts, Gavin’s in Niles’ lap, kissing him hungrily, his hands tugging the jacket off the android’s shoulders. Niles helps him remove it, tosses it blindly to the floor and leaving it to the mercy of the confetti. As hands immediately go to the fly of his pants, Niles prompts his component to respond, the artificial genitalia ‘filling’ in reaction to his ‘arousal’. Niles always keeps his pleasure sensors carefully controlled, only activating them when he detects Gavin is aroused and is attempting to initiate sex. Truthfully, he’s not sure how his software would respond if he had the sensors constantly activated: would he match Gavin in terms of his sexual appetite or would he be less interested in sex? From what he has deduced from Richard Stern’s profile, Nines’ sexual arousal peaks whenever he engages in acts of murder or when he is with Gavin Reed. The latter, Niles can understand: Gavin is an incredibly attentive lover and a lot less selfish when it comes to intimacy than he is in most aspects of his life.

“I do not believe Chloe would approve of us using the company limo for this,” Niles whispers, responding with a gentle gasp as Gavin pulls his cock free.

“Doing a really bad job of talking me out of this, babe.”

The smirk on Gavin’s lips is devious and he takes Niles’ dick firmly in hand, brushing his thumb over the weeping head. The collection of sensory information Niles is receiving makes his circuits thrum, an incoherent sound echoing in his voice box. Gavin’s grip loosens in reaction and he anxiously glances at his fiancé, who is now genuinely coloring. Niles has to reduce the intensity of his receptors, if only to control his physiological responses to Gavin’s touching, though the detective’s discomfort is seemingly forgotten as he chuckles.

“Getting all worked up and I barely touched you.”

“You know how arousing I find it when you break the rules, Detective,” Niles purrs.

Nines takes pride in perverting the rules and corrupting the people around him. Niles, on the other hand, is used to following directives and finds simplicity in structure. Laws and rules are easy to understand. What isn’t clear to Niles is why anyone could derive personal satisfaction from neglecting them.

But it’s the right thing to say, has Gavin kissing him once more, smacking their lips together as he begins to stroke Niles. And Niles is quickly reminded how little his musings on human behavior matter when the detective is touching him like this.

“D-Darling,” Niles utters, lifting his hips to chase Gavin’s palm with each upward stroke.

The detective slides to his knees, parting Niles’ thighs so that he can settle comfortably between them. His gaze is dark as he stares up at Niles with hunger, tongue darting out to wet his kiss-swollen lips. The way Gavin’s looking at him, the hand wearing the ring wrapped around Niles’ attachment, makes a wave of possessiveness wash over the android. Red blinks rapidly on the band settled underneath the engagement ring and there’s something of an instability in Niles’ software that he cannot account for.

Gavin’s tongue licks a long, slow line up the shaft and Niles’ attention is rapt as he follows the movement, grips at the leather of his seat when those lips wrap around the head. Gavin doesn’t once break eye contact, swallowing Niles until his mouth meets the hand fisted around the android’s dick. A moan vibrates against the sensitive synthetic flesh and Niles’ lids flutter coyly when the detective begins sucking him off.

As the vehicle moves, Niles can predict the route and the distance. His fingers tangle in soft, brown strands and he tugs the way Gavin likes, thrusts up roughly once or twice to throw off the detective’s rhythm, feel the tip of his attachment hit the narrow cavern of Gavin’s throat. It used to surprise him how he gets prompts to handle Gavin a little roughly every now and then but Gavin enjoys the unpredictable nature of Nines and his propensity for violence. Perhaps it would make sense that some of his violent behavior would bleed into his sex life.

“W-we should be arriving in f-four minutes,” Niles groans.

Gavin pumps the base of his cock, his mouth popping off with a wet smack. With a lop-sided grin, he says, “Guess I better get to work.”

“Gavin, love, there is no need to—”

He cuts off his own protest with another moan, this time louder than he intends. The likelihood of Ralph hearing them is high as he calculates the decibels at which he’s groaning to be loud enough to carry through the glass separating the driver from the passengers. He tries to once more reduce the sensitivity of his receptors but then Gavin’s taking him as deep into his throat as the detective can and Niles is engaging the prompt that has him bucking up hard, forcing Gavin’s head in place. The detective gargles but takes it and the feedback Niles is receiving informs him that Gavin’s responding positively to his use of force, gags but pushes through, saliva dripping and wetting the base of Niles cock until—

His artificial lungs draw in air sharply, thirium pump stopping its chaotic thrum. It’s as if his circuits are on the verge of overheating and fraying at the moment of release, when he spurts his thirium-laced load at the back of Gavin’s throat. Forcing the unneeded air to whistle out past his parted lips, Niles makes a static whine as he collapses back against the seat and runs his internal fans to lower the heat emanating from his core. He pants gently, mimicking the reaction of a man spent, lips pulling in a lazy smirk as he stares down at the detective still kneeling between his spread thighs. Gavin, ever diligent, laps at the remainder of tasteless ‘cum’ weeping from the head.

When Gavin finishes, Niles tugs at his tie. Gavin follows to settle in Niles’ lap, helping him back into his pants. The detective’s own erection pokes the android’s abdomen but Gavin seems very willing to neglect his own needs as he darts his tongue between Niles’ lips, letting the android taste himself on Gavin’s tongue. The feedback Niles receives from the combination of Gavin’s DNA and his own thirium signature makes him kiss Gavin harder, grasp the detective possessively against him. It’s at that moment that the car stops.

“Best fucking birthday ever,” Gavin says, cradling Niles’ face. His voice is thick with emotion and his eyes sparkle with something that Niles has come to learn well: love.

“It is hardly over yet,” Niles answers, bumping his nose affectionately against Gavin’s.

Gavin appears as if he wants to say something else but then the door’s opening and he’s quickly shifting off Niles’ lap, rearranging himself to try and hide the erection tenting his dress pants. Niles exits the vehicle first to give Gavin a few more moments to put himself in order and then turns to Ralph.

“Have the detective’s gifts brought up when we are at work tomorrow,” he orders.

Ralph glares at him but says nothing.

The hostility that has only increased all evening leaves Niles so confused, he almost abandons the profile he’s running to speak with Ralph as RK. But then Gavin’s coming out of the limo, flicking off pieces of confetti that have stuck to his jacket. Pink fills his cheeks and he’s trying to avoid catching Ralph’s gaze.

“Could use a smoke right now,” Gavin mumbles, scratches at the back of his neck.

“Both of us have committed to quitting, detective. You would not want to undo all that progress after four months. Even Detective Chen has been impressed with your effort thus far.”

“C’mon, babe. Just one. It’s my fucking birthday.”

Niles frowns. “Gavin...”

His fiancé sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Bad for my health and all that shit. You sure Con’s not starting to rub off on you, babe?”

“You know very well I only mentioned the health benefits because _you_ expressed interest in wanting to improve your health as you continue your gym regimen,” Niles replies. “I wanted you to quit simply because it provided less of a temptation for myself.”

In truth, Amanda hadn’t wanted him to replicate Nines’ ‘filthy habit’ and told him to use the excuse of tobacco smoke having adverse effects on his components when drawn in directly. Gavin had mumbled something about Cyberlife fucking with the few good things in life but then decided to quit smoking to make it ‘easier’ on Niles. He’d been cutting back for some time, anyway.

“Fucking killjoy,” Gavin says, though it doesn’t diminish the grin he’s had all evening.

“I will see you in the morning, Ralph.”

Gavin waves off the assistant and trudges after Niles.

But as they go to enter the condominium, Ralph says, somewhat sadly, “Nines wanted to wish the detective a happy birthday.”

Gavin stops, confusion flickering across his face.

“Ralph,” Niles says, sharply. His expression is hard as he glares back at the younger man. “We do not use that name in public.”

Ralph frowns. He attempts to respond but Niles determines there’s a high probability his assistant will say something else incriminating and quickly cuts him off, “Go home, Ralph.”

With little more than a glare, Ralph returns to the limo.

“You really need to be so hard on him?” Gavin asks, once they’re in the elevator.

Niles tenses. For the first time in hours, he detects an edge in the way Gavin addresses him. The detective’s disapproval is evident in the way his arms are folded and he leans against the opposite wall. Niles will need to tread carefully. “Ralph is hardly competent on the best of days. One would expect that remembering which name to address me as would be simple enough.”

“Easier said than done,” Gavin says. “How many fucking times have I slipped up?”

“ _That_ is different; you have called me that twice in front of Connor, who is well aware of our situation,” Niles answers, his tone dripping with condescension. “Ralph is with me when I attend interviews and meet with potential investors. I cannot afford to have him undo _everything_ simply because he is incapable of thinking before he speaks.”

Gavin’s eyes narrow and his lips pull in a frown. It’s frustrating to Niles that they can go from indulging in one another and uttering sweet nothings against each other’s flesh to bickering heatedly over what should be a non-issue: there is nothing out of character about ‘Nines’ being hyper-critical of Ralph so it startles him that tonight, of all nights, Gavin is turning it into an issue.

“Darling...” Niles says, gently. “I do not want to fight over this. You _know_ what will happen if anyone else suspects the truth.”

The elevator stops on their floor. As the doors slide open, whatever tension was escalating between them diminishes, Gavin stepping away from the wall. He allows Niles to pull him into the android’s arms, relaxes in his embrace. “I know. Just...go easier on him. The kid’s trying and you’re one tough asshole to please.”

With the doors sliding shut, Niles alters his hair and voice. “I...suppose I can try. For you, love.”

Gavin’s expression warms as Niles once more lets the term of endearment slip. “That’s new. Never called me that before.”

“Do you not approve?”

His system seems to freeze at that, as if whatever response Gavin gives will prompt his CPU into operating once more.

The detective’s blushing though he hides his embarrassment with a shrug. “Guess it’s alright...”

Niles’ pump thrums.

Gavin likes it.

“I must disagree with you on one thing, love,” he says, trying out the pet name again. He likes how it makes Gavin’s expression soften. “Though my tastes may be very particular, I am not ‘one tough asshole’ to please. Not if one knows _how._ ”

With a sexy smirk, he leads Gavin to their shared bedroom, dragging him by his tie.

Later, as the two of them lay in bed, Niles pressed to Gavin’s back, the android traces the ring that sits on the detective’s finger. He can feel Gavin’s eyes following the motion, Gavin’s gentle exhales the only sound between them. Though Niles’ artificial diaphragm mimics breathing, Gavin has this tendency to breathe hard through his nose. It’s yet another aspect of him that Niles has come to find endearing.

“Whaddya think of being a ‘Reed’?”

The question takes Niles by surprise. He hadn’t thought beyond the proposal itself, as he has been of the understanding that this ‘arrangement’ is only until Chloe and Dr. Stern no longer require him to collect data necessary for the improvement of the software he is currently running. Even as he attempts to formulate a response compatible with Richard Stern’s profile, there is no prompt guiding him in this conversation. “You do not approve of the surname ‘Deckert’?”

“No offense, babe, but ‘Gavin Deckert’ sounds kinda douchey.”

“All the more fitting.”

Gavin elbows him and Niles pulls him closer, laughing softly in the detective’s ear. Though Gavin makes a show of ‘trying’ to get away, he gives up after a lazy struggle, huffs in mock irritation. But Niles feels how he relaxes once the android starts peppering his neck with kisses.

“I’m serious. I don’t want some bullshit name Chloe chose for you. I, uh...”

Gavin pauses, wets his lips nervously. Niles stops kissing him at the first sign of his anxiety, is silent as he waits for Gavin to continue.

“I think it would sound good: Niles Reed. Less like you have a stick up your ass.”

Gavin acts as if it doesn’t matter but Niles can tell that it does. It takes him a moment, his software not always the best at determining what is left unsaid but from Gavin’s behavior, he can infer that the detective is concerned Niles will reject his suggestion.

_You want to give me your name,_ Niles realizes.

An odd sensation leaves his circuits buzzing. His thirium pump whirs harder as the significance of what Gavin is offering hits him. The detective isn’t even using his preferred nickname for Richard Stern but the name RK was assigned.

“Niles Reed,” Niles muses, his voice sultry. He rests his chin on the crook of Gavin’s neck, weaves his fingers through the detective’s so he can feel that ring—the one _he_ gave to Gavin, not Nines—press against his own. “I also like the sound of that.”

Little else is said as Gavin shifts, kisses him with such abandon that sleep becomes the furthest thing from both their minds. It’s sometime after Gavin’s cum inside him for the second time that night—‘ _Only because it is your birthday,’_ Niles had teased, even if he secretly reasons that it is preferable due to the intensity of the feedback received by the receptors there—that the android ignores the reminder to enter stasis to clutch Gavin’s hand in his. Nines is unaware of the engagement but it will be made known to him soon. After all, this is _Nines’ life_ RK is living, not his own. Regardless of how Nines feels about this, Niles is eventually going to be replaced by him.

As he holds Gavin close to him, lets the rhythmic sound of the detective’s breaths ease him into his own ‘slumber’, an unprompted thought strikes him.

He doesn’t _want_ to give up Gavin.


	2. Bad Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin makes a breakthrough in the case and Nines is once more sent out to do Amanda's bidding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you to those of you who have returned and left some amazing feedback on the last chapter! It's good to know there are people still interested in this story/series, even though it's taken more of a sci-fi turn than previous installments (then again, I doubt many of us would be in the D:BH fandom if we hated sci-fi XD). I will try and keep up with the two-week update schedule since we're getting into that holiday season and I will most likely be busy until the end of January (tmi real life stuff: relocating countries next month for work). But I will make time when I can to edit and update.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta-reader, [FallLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallLover), for all the help with this edit. I hate editing and I dread it and your feedback has been super helpful. Thank you so much <3
> 
> No particular warnings in this chapter but the ongoing **dubious** nature of Gavin and Niles' relationship. However, please be sure to check the tags with each update in case new chapters contain content you find upsetting. 
> 
> Happy reading <3

“—will revolutionize the medical industry once we have completed a human-compatible prototype for testing,” Nines says. 

He pauses to extend his right hand down to the chimpanzee, who grasps it with the prosthetic it wears. At the chimpanzee’s temple, an LED spins yellow, light reflecting off the white-titanium alloy arm it wears and making it appear more silver. It’s not lost on Gavin that Nines is using his own prosthetic to assist the chimpanzee and help it climb up onto the high stool in the Channel 16 studio. It’s eerie as shit that Cyberlife’s planted a goddamn head chip in some monkey—and the American fucking government  _ let _ them—but it’s no different than the crap they tested on Nines months ago.

“Incredible,” the anchor says, watching as the chimpanzee crouches on the stool and begins signing to Nines using her right hand. “What’s she saying?”

“She’s saying, ‘walnut’. We often reward her with one for good behavior,” Nines answers, adjusting his glasses. He signs back to the chimpanzee, chuckles when she prods at his coat pocket. His laugh may sound charming, but Gavin can tell Nines is annoyed at having to spend his afternoon with an ‘inferior creature’ doing parlor tricks to impress any potential investors while this interview is being conducted. In fact, Nines had spent the better part of that morning complaining about Chloe sending him to Channel 16 News to ‘play with monkeys’.

“Wish I was getting paid to play with animals all day,” Gavin had mumbled, scratching Socks’ chin. “Hey, think Con will let me bring Socks into work? Whaddya say, you lil’shit? Wanna come into work with daddy?”

Socks mewled and sprawled onto his back, pawing at Gavin’s hand. 

Nines had made an annoyed huff. “I do not see how anyone could derive enjoyment from being around foul-smelling animals. Is it not torture enough that I am forced to live with one?”

“Socks is not smelly.”

“I was not talking about your cat,” Nines had answered, smugly.

Gavin flipped him off. With both hands. “Asshole.”

Nines had laughed, affectionately kissed Gavin’s temple. He then took Gavin’s hand and entwined their fingers together. He has been holding Gavin’s hand a lot more in the last few days, and it was always the one bearing his engagement ring. It was the only thing that sat on that finger since, at Nines’ suggestion, Gavin finally removed the LED, though he felt strange about getting rid of it completely, and instead, wears it around his neck. For whatever reason, Nines had almost seemed... bothered when he noticed Gavin still had it. But maybe Gavin had read his reaction wrong because it hasn’t come up since then. 

“You knew precisely what I am when you agreed to marry me,” Nines teased.

Gavin couldn’t help but grin, kissing Nines softly. “For better or fucking worse.”

Now he leans forward on the high table in the break room, a warm coffee clutched in his hand. 

Tina nudges him at his right side as they continue to watch the live interview: Nines is removing a walnut from his pocket and handing it to the chimpanzee, who quite easily grips it with the prosthetic. “It’s crazy what Cyberlife’s been up to. First, there’s those TROJAN military bots and now they’re making robot arms. What’s next? Robot servants?”

Gavin forces a laugh, remembering more than he’d like to about the shit he saw at Cyberlife. “Yeah fucking right. The fuck you hear that from? Reddit?”

“Does anyone still use that site?” Tina asks with a smirk. She bumps her shoulder against Gavin’s. “Nah, I’m serious, Gav. If the military’s involved, you know they’ll drop hard cash for anything that gives them a leg up. There’s a connection here: neural implants and cutting-edge robots. I bet you we’ll see some real AI in a few years. Get ready for the robot revolution!”

Gavin scoffs, thinking of RK and 800, the two most ‘advanced’ robots he’d seen all those months before. He can’t say he was all that impressed. “Yeah fucking right. Cyberlife’s decades away from that shit. You’ve been watching way too many movies, Chen.”

“Better than all those DC shows you made me binge.”

“Hey! Those are fucking  _ classics _ !”

She snickers and indicates to the TV. “Looks like your  _ fiancé _ ’s having the time of his life. Wish I was getting paid to play with animals all day.”

_ Fucking right, _ Gavin wishes he could rub in Nines’ face.

Speaking of Nines’ face, the cyborg is wearing a very nonplussed expression as the chimpanzee pulls him into a hug. The anchor coos at the gesture but Nines only just remembers to smile before his expression can warp into one of absolute disgust. Considering all the shit his fiancé gives  _ their _ cat (“You’re his fucking dad now, too, babe,” Gavin had said to him the other night when Nines scolded Socks off the counter), Gavin can’t help but think there’s a bit of poetic justice in Nines being forced to be nice to animals on local television.

“Does Cyberlife have an idea when this technology will be available on the market?” the anchor asks.

“We are hoping to begin human trials by the end of the year. At this time, we project that our prosthetic may be available as early as 2042,” Nines answers.

“And how does Cyberlife feel it can compete with other companies that have similar technologies already in use? Exoskeletons that operate on neural impulses through a transmitter have become more widely used by those who suffer from degenerative illnesses. They offer a less invasive solution to what Cyberlife is proposing.”

Nines gives the news anchor a strained smile and it’s obvious to Gavin that the cyborg would rather be anywhere else than enduring this interview. Yet he charms his way through it, and even embellishes the Cyberlife talking points that have no doubt been drilled into his head by now. 

“What Cyberlife is offering is not simply replacing limbs or correcting issues with mobility, but also enhancing the lives of our patients,” Nines says, with the kind of charm that could convince a snake oil salesman to buy his own snake oil. “Our procedures may be unorthodox, yet there is no denying that these neural implants,” and he taps the blue LED worn by the chimpanzee, “are utilizing the best of modern technology to make physical disabilities a thing of the past.”

They continue to converse, getting into the specific modifications Cyberlife is in the process of ‘developing’. Most of the technological lingo is way over Gavin’s head and he tunes out what they’re saying as he drinks the last of his coffee. Something that  _ does _ catch his attention, however, is when the anchor teases, “Is there any truth behind the rumor that Cyberlife’s favorite bachelor is headed down the aisle?”

Nines laughs off the question and Gavin’s cheeks grow hot as Tina smirks at him over her cup of coffee. “I doubt my personal affairs are of interest to anyone. However, I can confirm that I am ‘off the market’.”

“Someone’s getting married,” Tina sings beside him and Gavin drops his face to the table, attempting to hide it as Tina prods him. “And now it’s confirmed on television!”

“Yeah, fucking great,” Gavin mumbles. “This won’t make my social media blow up with congratulatory shit from assholes I haven’t talked to in years.” 

“You shouldn’t have confirmed your relationship status with Cyberlife’s Calvin Klein model.”

“Chennnn.”

“What?” Tina smirks. “Just saying, Gav. If I  _ had _ to pick a dude...”

He rolls his eyes at her, crumples the paper cup up and tosses it in the nearby trash. “Isn’t our break over? Don’t we have cases to solve and shit?”

“That’s us: two hard-boiled detectives bringing a bit of justice to this backwater shithole,” Tina replies, following after Gavin. “We’re not the heroes this city deserves, but we’re the ones it nee—”

“Fucking Christ, Chen. You’re in a  _ mood _ .”

“Because some asshole talked me into marathoning Nolan’s “Dark Knight” trilogy the other night after learning—shocker!—that Grace has never seen it. You brought this on yourself, Reed!”

“Good fucking cinema. Tell Grace she’s welcome.”

“I preferred Leto’s Joker to Ledger’s.”

Gavin stops, turns sharply on his heels in the middle of the bullpen, and narrows his eyes at Tina. “You take that back.”

“Or what, Reed?”

“I’m fucking requesting a new partner.”

Tina sighs, shaking her head dramatically. “Some men just want to watch the world burn.”

“Make that a fucking transfer.”

“Aww, why so serious?”

“God damnit, Chen, don’t make me have this fight with you again—”

“Tina, Gav? Is everything alright?”

The pair are startled as Connor glances worriedly between the two of them. Gavin scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, still not quite on good terms with the Lieutenant. Since Gavin’s birthday, things have been less frosty on his end, but he’s not sure if he’s ready, or ever will be, to forgive the shit Connor put him through, even if he can recognize the good intentions behind it. He’s tried putting himself in Connor’s shoes a few times, imagined if he would ever throw Connor under the bus if it meant saving Nines. There’s a time where he would have believed not, but now, he can’t be sure.

“Tina’s being a dick,” Gavin says. “Who the fuck would pick Leto over Ledger?”

As they begin to bicker once more, Connor coughs loudly to get their attention. “Have either of you made any progress in the break-ins you’ve been investigating?”

“You mean the ones involving Zlatko Tech and Internext?” Tina asks. “Gav and I were about to head down to the archive to review the evidence.”

“Don’t think we’re gonna find much,” Gavin mumbles, grunting when Tina elbows him. “What? We’ve been reviewing that shit all week. Best we could do was make a list of tech places that haven’t been hit yet.”

“Forward me that list,” Connor says, walking towards Anderson’s office as the Captain gestures him over. “And let me know the results of your review.”

“C’mon, Boy Wonder. Let’s go solve a case!” 

“Goddammit, Chen! I’m not fucking Robin,” Gavin argues, following after her out of the bullpen. He falls in step with her as they enter the hallway. Tina’s already on her phone and emailing Connor the list of companies they deduced might be future targets. “I got seniority on you. That’d make me Batman.”

“Connor’s Batman. I’m Batgirl.”

“No fucking way is that asshole Batman,” Gavin grumbles. “I’ve got a nicer car!”

“Your  _ fiancé _ has the Aston, Gav,” Tina points out. They enter inside the archive room and Tina taps the screen, keying in her password. “But it  _ is _ a pretty sweet car.”

“Fucking right it is.”

“The perks of living with a rich celebrity,” Tina adds. She cuts Gavin off as he begins to protest, “C’mon, Gav. Niles  _ is _ a celebrity in Detroit. He’s pretty much the next Elijah Kamski.”

Gavin knows it’s true and there have been times when Nines’ minor fame have almost made him lose his cool in public. Random people have interrupted their dates, either to gush over Nines or to prod him about the projects in development at Cyberlife. Gavin finds the tech junkies almost more irritating than the people who openly flirt with his fiancé, since it’s harder to evade the constant questions about what Cyberlife will be releasing next. For whatever reason, there’s a real thirst for what Cyberlife’s been doing with thirium and everyone seems curious about where the company is headed with its robotics division.

“Don’t compare him to that prick,” Gavin says, a sick sensation settling deep in the pit of his stomach. The guilt of what happened that night will never go away, but Gavin can still reason that killing Kamski was the only option. 

Tina senses his discomfort and falls into silence, lingering near the wall displaying the physical evidence from the Internext and Zlatko break ins. Gavin pushes aside his feelings, focusing on the objects in front of him. 

“The shards of glass forensics collected should have given us something,” Tina says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She touches the screen beside the sample and it brings up the CSI report. “You’d think there would have been blood with the way our perp jumped through that window. When we played back the footage, you can clearly see them using their bare hand to break through.”

She taps and a video no longer than 40 seconds plays. It shows the brief altercation, the thief reacting quickly and dodging bullets, and then crashing through the window to make their escape. Something about the thief prickles at the back of Gavin’s brain and he can’t figure out why. 

“And here’s the strangest thing: remember when the lab tried saying that there was some sort of clear residue on some of the glass similar to thirium?” Tina reminds him. “We made them run that test three times and it kept coming up the same. But even the lab technicians couldn’t agree with their results. If it was thirium, we would have seen it. Thirium doesn’t evaporate.”

Gavin plays the video again, pausing when the thief’s face is directed mostly towards the camera. He taps to zoom in on the assailant's face: it’s hard to tell with the lighting but the perp looks to have gray or blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a strong jaw. The ski mask covers most of it, but Gavin’s mind attempts to reconstruct what must lay beneath. 

“What’d the security guards say about them again?”

“6’2, male, white, they think,” Tina answers. “But there’s nothing to confirm gender. We can’t even be 100% certain about race. The thief didn’t say anything and besides their right hand, they were covered from head-to-toe.”

Gavin pulls up the video footage they have archived and plays the one showing the thief opening the safe. That strange feeling hasn’t left him, not even as he watches the thief easily crack the code. “Seems like a lot of fucking trouble to go through for a stupid USB stick.”

“Zlatko Tech won’t say what’s on it; just that it had ‘abandoned projects’. They might be covering their asses for whatever it actually contains.”

“They used their bare, fucking hand. Why the fuck would they do that?” Gavin asks, mostly to himself.

“And this shit just gets weirder. Why the hell didn’t we find any new fingerprints on the safe?” Tina says. 

Thirium. Fast reflexes. Missing fingerprints.

The truth hits him like a goddamn freight train.

_ The thief’s a fucking android!  _ Gavin realizes.

“Shit.”

Tina’s gaze snaps to his. “What is it, Reed?”

He tries to school his expression as he debates what to say to Tina. What the world has seen so far of androids are the white, expressionless ones Cyberlife has been making for the American military. They’re not the ones like RK or 800, programmed to mimic ‘independent’ thought, though very limited, in conversation. Tina’s got no clue what goes on at Cyberlife and because of that stupid non-disclosure clause Gavin ignorantly signed when handing over the company to Chloe, he can’t say shit unless he wants Cyberlife to destroy what little he has. Something tells him that Nines is included in that. 

“Fuck, never mind,” Gavin huffs in frustration, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s fucking stupid.”

“Most of your ideas are. Never stopped you before.”

“That’s not very encouraging, Chen. Were you even paying attention at Con’s team-building workshop last month?”

“You know I tuned him out when he rambled on about ‘fostering a positive and conducive work environment’,” Tina says, with a laugh. She nudges him. “I promise I won’t laugh  _ that  _ much.”

“I was just thinking...you remember that scene in “Men in Black”? When J joins them?”

She makes a nonplussed face. “...You can’t seriously be suggesting our perp’s burning their fingertips?”

“Hey, people do that shit all the time!”

Tina shakes her head at him. “And this thief’s broken into five different companies in the last 7 months. Unless they keep burning them off, some would have grown back by now. It’s gotta be something else.” 

As he anticipates, Tina moves onto the next piece of evidence. Guiltily, Gavin feels relieved that she brushed off his theory, but he’s also feeling pissed that he has to keep this from her. It’s like it was with Gonzales all over again and he doesn’t want Tina to end up like her. 

_ Nines might know something _ , he thinks, with sinking dread. Cyberlife’s one of the few places that hasn’t been hit with a break-in and given who Chloe’s predecessor was, he wouldn’t put it past the new CEO to resort to the same underhanded means Kamski used. Getting androids to break into competitors’ facilities to steal their shit? Sounds right up her alley.

A wave of discomfort washes over him and he touches his engagement ring. But instead of making him feel better, he feels worse, because if Nines is in on this, it means he’s lying. That Chloe’s dragged him right back into the kind of shit Gavin made him promise he wouldn’t be involved in. That the promise that sits on his hand can be as easily broken as the one Nines made when he came back into Gavin’s life.

_ Please, babe _ , he silently begs.  _ Don’t fucking do this to me again. _

Because after all that work to repair the damage from his past lies, Gavin thinks that all it takes is for one more for everything to unravel.

He barely listens to Tina as they go through the rest of the evidence, distracted by his own conflicting emotions. He hates that the second he figured out it must be Cyberlife, he immediately assumed Nines has been lying to him and hadn’t considered giving him the benefit of the doubt. Because it’s not as if Nines is ever around. He’s always  _ at _ Cyberlife and there’s gotta be a reason why.

But he wants so badly to believe Nines is just as much in the dark as he is. 

After coming up with little more than they’ve had all week, Tina and Gavin return upstairs, Chen in a more discouraged mood than Gavin. She mulls quietly over the case at her desk while Gavin stares down at his cellphone, thumb hovering over SEND.  _ We gotta talk  _ are the three most ominous words nobody wants to receive via text but, fuck, what the hell else can Gavin say? With his luck, Nines will continue his pattern of being at Cyberlife all hours of the fucking day and it’ll just make Gavin more and more suspicious until they finally do get to talk about it and it blows up into an argument. Nines needs to know Gavin’s fucking  _ serious _ and he better give him the fucking truth.

“I looked over that list,” Connor says, standing between both Gavin and Tina’s desks, “and I’ve contacted all three of them. They’ve all agreed to let us provide extra security at their main facilities, just as a temporary precautionary measure. Both of you are switching to nights starting tomorrow and I would like you to stake out Meditechniq. Be on the lookout for anything suspicious.”

“Is this a good use of department resources?” Gavin asks. Mostly, for the sake of complaining and giving Connor a hard time. “Shouldn’t we do, you know, useful shit?”

Connor pinches the bridge of his nose. “Be at Meditechniq at 8 tomorrow night. Their head of security, Antoine, will let you know all the details. Just try and be  _ helpful _ . Better yet, let Detective Chen take the lead. With any luck, we may make it to the end of this quarter without another civilian complaint about certain members of our department having an ‘attitude problem’.”

“Hey! That uppity prick at that last b&e said I was dressed like his trash collector,” Gavin snaps. “Asshole didn’t even thank us when he caught the piece of shit who stole his stupid painting.”

“Perhaps because you called him a ‘tool’ and implied parts of his anatomy were not functional,” Connor replies, dryly. “Antagonizing victims of crimes is not how the DPD can foster a positive relationship with the public. I need you to promise you’ll be on your best behavior. Or, if you can’t, let Chen handle security.”

“What are you, my mother?” Gavin mutters, earning him a kick from Chen beneath their joined desks. He glares at her. “Am I just supposed to stand around and look pretty while Chen butters up the incompetent douchebags they have running security?”

“Wear that tight, green shirt you have. It brings out your eyes. And don’t forget to pucker those pretty lips,” Tina says, winking saucily at him.

“Hey! That’s fucking sexual harassment!” Gavin cries out. “ You fucking saw that, Con!” 

Connor smirks and begins walking back to his desk. “I saw nothing but Detective Chen congratulating you for a job well done.”

Connor whistles to himself and when he’s out of earshot, Gavin’s back to his foul mood. “This is bullshit. We’re not beat cops. We should be doing something useful.”

“Like what, Gav? We have no leads. Trying to catch this person in the act might be our best bet.” 

He’s got no choice but to agree with her since the only lead they  _ do _ have would require him to throw Cyberlife in the spotlight and possibly implicate Nines. Gavin’s got no fucking loyalty to Chloe or that shitty company, but if he’s gonna throw his entire life upside down, he’s needs something more concrete first.

He glances once more at his phone. With an uncomfortable swallow, he hits SEND.

* * *

Down in the lower levels of Cyberlife, Nines quietly watches Ralph as the younger man opens the compartment on Nines’ inner right wrist. As usual, Ralph is yammering on a mile a minute, talking about nonsense Nines can barely follow. Nines distracts himself with his pocketknife, flipping out the blade and spinning it between his fingers on his left hand. At this point, it’s muscle memory.

Nines makes a face as Ralph carefully reattaches a wire that’s come loose, the tips of his lackey’s fingers blue from his tinkering.   
  
“Is this going to take much longer?” Nines asks impatiently, cutting off whatever Ralph had been saying. 

Ralph pulls his lower lip between his teeth. He chews on it and really, he shouldn’t. It’s why Ralph always seems to have chapped lips.

“Ralph’s not as good as the other engineers,” Ralph says, with a small huff.

“I do not trust the other engineers,” Nines replies. “I trust Ralph.” Ralph beams at that and Nines has a good idea of what nonsense the younger man is about to blather so he shuts that down by quickly adding, “I would much rather receive assistance from a moron loyal to me than a moron loyal to my mother.”

As expected, Ralph deflates. Good. Nines does not need to be filling his head with the belief he’s capable of more than the bare minimum of what Nines requires. Ralph’s always been quite talented when it comes to ‘tinkering’ with hardware, and though Nines will never tell him, he is impressed with how useful Ralph’s become.

“Ralph wants to help.”

“Ralph will be more helpful if he stops talking and completes his task,” Nines snaps. If he anticipates this would discourage the younger man, it only has him smiling to himself. 

Nines continues to play with his knife as Ralph works, the latter humming some tune to himself. Nines recognizes it as a song Gavin likes and it fills his chest with an uncomfortable heaviness he’d rather not reflect on.

“Will you stop that?”

Ralph stops attempting to reattach the wires, looks questioningly at Nines.

The ex-gangster rolls his eyes. “Not that. Your incessant humming. It irritates me.”

“Everything irritates Nines,” Ralph replies matter-of-factly.

Snarky little shit.

“Well, stop it.”

Ralph continues his task. Silently, for once. But it is not even a minute before he breaks that silence and says, “RK lets Ralph hum.”

The knife goes flying at the wall behind Ralph, burying itself deep in the pristine white surface. Ralph is not phased, though Nines would not even be able to fling the knife within a hairsbreadth of the lackey’s face as his programming prevents that. The wide berth it left was hardly intimidating.

“I do not want to hear what that...  _ thing _ permits you to do,” Nines says, coolly.

Ralph closes the compartment and Nines reactivates his synthetic skin to cover the prosthetic. The younger man shrugs. “RK wants to be Nines.”

“That  _ abomination _ is living the life I was promised. I care little for what it wants.”

Nines stands up, walks to the wall, and viciously tugs the knife out of it. He doesn’t want to think of what that machine is up to, how it’s taken the only thing left in his life that was good. There’s little for him in this miserable existence and as he stares down at the knife he’s holding, he can’t help but wonder about the things he would do if his anti-aggression software didn’t prevent him from harming himself or others.

His poisonous, self-deprecating thoughts make him spiral in a silent rage as he grips his pocket knife, and he would have missed what Ralph says next, if not for his sensitive audio components.

“The detective’s not happy.”

Nines’ eyes flit questioningly to Ralph. “What did you say?”

Ralph stares back at him with a sobering look that seems almost foreign on his usually jovial face. “Gavin’s not happy with RK.”

Nines’ heart pounds. 

There’s so much more he wants to ask but then, the door to his private quarters is sliding open and Amanda steps into the room, her frown deepening as she sees  _ who _ Nines is with.

“You should not be down here.”

“I asked him to assist me with my prosthetic,” Nines says. “The incompetent imbecile you had help me last time incorrectly rewired the circuits in my wrist.”

“The next time you decide you need ‘assistance’, you will run that by either Director Weber or myself,” Amanda replies, glaring at her son. “Or will this be a recurring issue?”

Nines would much rather antagonize her, but sees little value in prolonging her presence here. If telling her what she wants to hear means she’ll leave sooner, he’ll behave himself.

“It will not.”

“Good.”

Yet the critical way she regards both of them suggests she doesn’t believe him.

“You have come to see me personally,” Nines drawls, his tone dripping with derision. He thinks of all the times he’s been thrust into her ‘zen garden’ without warning, a wave of discomfort making him hold back a shudder. There’s nothing worse than being constantly left at her mercy, knowing that his mind is not his own. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“There is something that requires your immediate attention.”

Her tone is cool and distant, as it always is when she’s addressing him. There was a brief time in his childhood when he recalled an inkling of affection in her attempts to connect with him. But his inability to live up to her impossible standards long since made her lose what little ‘love’ she may have once had for him, though he’s more inclined to believe any effort she made to connect with him had been all for show to appease his late father. Nines has little doubt that Amanda cared for Edward and Connor. But she always regarded Richard as lower than the muck scuffing her designer shoes. 

“Leave us,” Amanda says, giving a sharp look to Ralph.

Ralph glances hesitantly between Nines and Amanda. His loyalty to Nines trumps any threat Cyberlife could make against him, but Nines sees no value in testing the limits of it. With a small nod from him, Ralph does as Amanda commands, though not without one final look of trepidation as he leaves Nines with his mother.

Amanda wastes no time in getting to her point. “I’ve looked over the data you retrieved from Van Houten,” she says, pressing the surface of the tablet she’s carrying with her. She pulls open a file and then pointedly stares at the pocketknife Nines is still clutching until he gets the hint and puts it away. She then hands the tablet to him. “These are the prototypes Meditechniq has approached him for investment. The prosthetics they have in development would directly compete with what we intend on releasing next year. They claim to have created a neural receiver that processes commands at 20% more efficiency than anything we’ve made. I want to see how they’ve managed that.”

“Perhaps you can arrange a meeting with one of their engineers? For the right price, I am certain they will be happy to relinquish that information,” Nines says, handing the tablet back.

Her tone is condescending as she answers, “Do you not think we tried? Their top engineer, DeSouza, left Cyberlife some time ago after deciding our methods were... ‘unethical’. There was bad blood between him and Elijah and he has no interest in sharing his work with Cyberlife.”

Nines remembers DeSouza. A quiet and otherwise unremarkable man who had left after getting a glimpse of the kind of business Kamski really ran. He had been on Nines’ list for a brief time, though there had never been an opportune time to take him out. Kamski had worried that killing a respected scientist would draw the kind of attention he wasn’t prepared to deal with and so he had eventually abandoned having Nines go after him. 

“Am I to assume my newest objective is to enter their facility and recover their designs?” 

Amanda nods. “Once I have access to their blueprints, I will be able to determine how their neural receiver has higher and more efficient processing power. It may be useful in upgrading the CPUs of our androids and improving the head chips for our own prosthetics.”

She types something on the tablet and within moments, Nines receives an upgraded list of objectives. He feels his LED blink as he downloads the data she’s sending him: most of it is useless information on the facility, but at least he has coordinates, even if he will have to scout the building and scan it first before making any attempt at entering.

Something in his list of objectives stands out and Nines can’t help but frown.

“ _ Assist 60 with breaking into the facility _ ,” Nines says, his gaze turning sharply to his mother’s. “You cannot possibly mean—”

“The RK800 will be with you and I expect you to treat him with more respect than you show yourself.”

The door to his private quarters slides open and an android steps inside. Nines’ retinal scanner immediately identifies the machine by its model number, #313 248 317 – 60, yet he can never forget those deep, brown eyes which, for whatever reason, remind him so much of Connor’s. But unlike Connor’s, there’s a cold emptiness to which 60 regards the world, which reminds Nines too much of himself.

“I do not need  _ assistance, _ ” Nines hisses. “I am perfectly capable of carrying this out on my own.”

“You say that and yet you almost got caught after breaking into Zlatko and Tech this summer,” Amanda reminds him. “You failed to disrupt the camera feed in Zlatko’s private office and were seen by two security guards. From what our contacts at the Sixth Precinct have told us, the central station already has witness statements and visual evidence in their investigation.”

That catches Nines’ attention, and his protests die as he ponders what his mother’s saying. 60 stares at him with mild disinterest, not even flinching when Nines directs a dark look in the android’s direction. He hates it when those things stare at him.

“Who are the detectives running the case?” Nines asks.

His mother’s eyes narrow. “That is of no concern to you.”

“Not my concern? Have you considered that they may interfere with what Cyberlife is doing once they realize you are breaking into tech-based facilities?”

“I have little reason to believe that anyone Connor has assigned to the case is clever enough to figure out what we are doing,” Amanda answers, haughtily. “Yet, should the DPD prove to be a hindrance, you will have 60 to help take care of them.”

An ice-cold sensation has Nines gazing questioningly at his mother.

“60, activate your synthetic fluid.”

Nines watches as pale skin covers its off-white face, distinct beauty marks and a cleft chin appearing until Nines is looking into the face of his nearly-identical twin. It’s disturbing how the only difference between 60 and Connor’s appearance is the cool expression the android wears.

“60, run personality: Connor Anderson.”

A smile appears on the android’s face, its entire expression seeming to brighten as it looks between Nines and Amanda. 

“Good evening, Rich. Mother,” the android says, with that same warm inflection that often differentiates Connor’s voice from Nines’.

Nines glares at his mother. “This is disgusting. This...  _ thing _ is not my brother. Nobody will believe it is.”

“RK800’s hardware is not as compatible with the same personality software RK900 is running. There have been some glitches and RK800 is far more limited when it comes to executing his own commands. However, his personality software is only to be used as a last resort.”

Nines scrutinizes the machine, his contempt for it only growing the more he stares at it. He doesn’t understand how he never noticed it before: the way 60’s brow ridges and jawline had been crafted or its height and frame. It was always intended to be Connor: an obedient replica of the son Amanda’s had little success in controlling.

“It seems you have finally crafted the  _ perfect  _ son,” Nines says, quietly.

“Connor had so much potential. And then you had to start filling his head with nonsense. I have simply corrected  _ your  _ mistakes.”

Of course. It’s always his fucking fault. It’s his fault for telling Connor to stop living up to their mother’s plan for him, to reject those offers from Columbia and Yale and pursue his career in police work. How dare he tell Connor to live his own goddamn life and stop trying to please the impossible expectations of their heartless mother.

“I am not going anywhere with  _ that. _ ”

A warning appears in his visual component and before Nines can sneer another protest, he’s on his knees, his synthetic fingers scraping into the floor while his other hand grips at his chest. The words SYSTEMS CRITICAL flashes in his right eye and pain flares from all over his body. He doesn’t know where it begins or ends, and only knows that he can’t move—that everything  _ hurts _ and he’s on the verge of shutting down completely.

Amanda lifts her finger from where it was pressed down on her tablet and the searing sensation stops, Nines panting and gasping as if he’s just run a marathon. He drops his head to the cool, metal surface of the floor, struggling to regain his breath. His system automatically runs diagnostics and the results appear in his eye: 

**[ SYSTEM INITIALIZATION…**

**CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… OK**

**INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS OK**

**INITIALIZING AI ENGINE OK**

**MEMORY STATUS…**

**ALL SYSTEMS OK]**

His fingertips are stained with thirium, presumably from the deep scratches he unknowingly made in the floor. Amanda tuts in disapproval, but all Nines can focus on is the humiliation of his own helplessness weighing him down beneath her scrutiny.

“You will cooperate with RK800. You will break into Meditechniq tomorrow evening and you will return with everything on their new prototypes. I should hope you do not require another reminder of what will happen should you choose to be uncooperative. Have I made myself clear, Richard?”

He doesn’t pick himself off the floor and simply stares blearily at her feet. She hates when he doesn’t look her in the eye, hates every sign of disrespect and petulance he has gratuitously thrown her way. Yet, as he stares at her designer-shoe-clad feet, he gets the sense that he’s right where he belongs, that she likes projecting this much control and power over the wayward child she had been forced to adopt all those years before.

He is  _ nothing  _ to her and she is making sure he never forgets that.

“Yes, mother.”

He listens as her shoes click across the floor, followed closely by the near silent steps of Connor’s doppelganger. When the door slides shut behind them, Nines takes a deep, sobering breath, holding it in his lungs. But it fails to calm him down. Unable to hold back any longer, he slams his fist into the floor with an angry shout, his pain receptors burning as metal cracks beneath the force.

A message appears in the corner of his vision:

[ _ You are a grown man. Do not embarrass yourself with a tantrum. _ ]

Nines sits up carefully on his knees, staring at the damage he’s inflicted on the floor. She’s watching him. She’s always watching him.

_ I will live long enough to see you and your fucking legacy burn _ , he decides.

* * *

Niles stares at the patterns on the doors in front of him, the elevator humming as it makes a slow crawl up to the penthouse. In one hand, he carries a metal briefcase, containing packets of thirium-310 for when his levels run low and he has to replenish. In the other, a container of takeout from one of the less healthier establishments Gavin’s palate seems to have a preference for. Niles still doesn’t understand it: his cooking program has him creating all sorts of cuisines spanning across a multitude of cultures and he is more than capable of replicating whatever dish his fiancé craves. Yet whenever Gavin experiences emotional stress, the detective resorts to indulging in foods that are detrimental to his health.

“When you make it, it’s not the same,” Gavin had once tried explaining around a mouthful of greasy bacon cheeseburger.

Niles had wrinkled his nose as cheese and sauce dribbled onto the detective’s fingers, his scanners supplying him with the sodium and caloric content of what Gavin was consuming. He had attempted to try it, at Gavin’s insistence, and found that, similar to what his personality profile was prompting, he did not much care for, nor comprehend, what could be appealing about an unhealthy bundle of meat capable of clogging his partner’s arteries and increasing his blood pressure. Luckily, Gavin rarely partakes in the consumption of fast food—part of maintaining his health—or Niles would have to have a very serious discussion with him on the long-term consequences of such a diet.

Tonight, however, there will be no lectures on unhealthy indulgences or the deadly effects of a cheeseburger on one’s heart. Ever since receiving Gavin’s text earlier, Niles has been walking on metaphorical eggshells, preconstructing the endless possibilities of topics the detective wishes to discuss. Everything from the benign, “You forgot to pick up the fucking catnip toy again? Fuck sakes, you’re the one who threw the last one out in the first place!” “It was filthy, Gavin! And your cat kept insisting on placing it in  _ my _ Oxfords!” “He’s trying to be your goddamn friend!” “I do not need friends that shed all over  _ my  _ Armani coat!”, to the more serious, “At Cyberlife again? When the fuck you gonna spend some goddamn time with me?” 

Niles has hypothesized that the latter is the most likely topic of tonight’s discussion and has come prepared with artery-clogging nourishment in the hopes that his consideration for Gavin’s emotional comforts will diminish any potential anger his partner may have towards him.

_ Human relationships are unnecessarily complicated _ , Niles decides as the doors open and he steps into the penthouse.

He detects Gavin immediately, leaning against the island separating the living space from the kitchen. A frown is on the detective’s lips and a reading of his body language leaves the android’s thirium pump stuttering: Gavin’s blood pressure is higher than normal and there’s a tension in his stance that unsettles Niles.

Perhaps he should rethink his peace offering.

“You’re home early,” Gavin mutters sarcastically.

It’s nearing 11:00 PM. Nearly 8:00 on the western coast, which would warrant such a remark if it were genuine, his processor unhelpfully supplies. 

Sensing Gavin’s hostility, Niles quietly approaches the island and sets the bag of food on it. Socks, who Niles has reminded Gavin multiple times does not belong on a surface where food is kept (on that point, he can agree with Nines’ dislike of cats in the kitchen), sniffs at the bag. Niles is prompted to make a cool remark regarding the cat’s presence on the counter, but the challenging look Gavin offers him, as the detective defiantly scratches behind the cat’s ear, makes Niles ignore the prompt.

“I brought you dinner,” Niles says, indicating to the bag.

Gavin shrugs. “I already ate.”

Well...  _ fuck. _

If Gavin has no interest in the food Niles brought, it must be  _ bad _ .

“Did you have a good day at work?” Niles asks, deciding to change tactics. A warning appears in his field of vision that he is engaging in behavior counter to what his profile is suggesting. It’s, however, frustrating to Niles—and this is how he has come to understand what ‘frustration’ is—that every time Gavin hides his emotional vulnerability behind open hostility, ‘Nines’ would much rather meet that hostility with equal aggression than attempt to empathize with what Gavin is experiencing.

Gavin scoffs, lifts up Socks, and cuddles the purring cat against his chest. “Can’t remember the last time you asked about my fucking day when I wasn’t already half asleep.”

He strolls into the living area, plopping down on the couch. Niles has no choice but to follow, his shoes clicking hollowly on the floor. He sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of Gavin, but the detective won’t even meet his eyes: he’s too busy stroking Socks, his own protective shield against whatever it is Niles dishes back.

So, Gavin’s going to be difficult tonight. Niles can work with difficult.

“I had to reschedule a conference call with Hong Kong this evening in order to see you,” Niles says, intentionally using guilt as a means to manipulate Gavin into calming down. Based on his observations of toxic human behavior, he knows it will only anger Gavin more, but continuing to ignore the personality he’s running will prompt an executable that will override his ability to ‘choose’ between suggested dialogues and actions. He would then enter a mode where all functions are automatic, including his responses. A ‘fail safe’ Amanda had added to ensure he never breaks character outside of Cyberlife. “Regardless of what you choose to believe, Gavin, I deem our relationship important enough that, if I must, I will inconvenience the entirety of Cyberlife for you.”

“That supposed to make me feel fucking grateful?” Gavin retorts. “Chloe’s ‘inconvenienced’ for one fucking night so you and I can finally have a fucking conversation before midnight? The fuck do I care what those assholes at Cyberlife think?”

Gavin releases Socks, glares and crosses his arms over his chest. Niles can’t be sure, but he has the sense that the irritation he’s experiencing may not only be due to how Nines would react.

“Cyberlife has given you  _ everything  _ you wanted, Gavin,” Niles points out. “You have your old job at the DPD, a nice penthouse, an Aston Martin—”

“That’s your goddamn car, not mine!”

“—that you can drive whenever  _ you _ want,” Niles continues. “And they gave  _ us _ a chance. You should, perhaps, show some more gratitude.”

He attempts to take Gavin’s hand, but the detective slaps his own away. A suspicious look crosses the detective’s face, one that makes Niles’ circuits feel as if they are about to fray. “Since when do you give a shit about Cyberlife?”

“Since one of us has to be the adult and recognize that without Cyberlife, neither of us would be here:  _ you _ would be either at the Sixth Precinct or discharged from the force for obstruction, and I would be  _ dead. _ I, at least, have the humility to not bite the hand that feeds.”

“They fucking manipulated us!” Gavin says, heatedly. “And you almost fucking died from Chloe’s little ‘experiment’. That’s all you fucking are to them: another fucking experiment they’re gonna profit off of. So don’t give me a goddamn speech about gratitude when we’ve both been fucked over into doing what they want!”

Niles tenses visibly, a surge of something visceral that he feels down to his wiring making him regard the man in front of him with an emotion he often replicates: anger. But this time, the anger isn’t simulated for the sake of a profile.

Niles doesn’t  _ like _ the way Gavin is speaking about Chloe.

“No one forced you to do anything,” Niles reminds him. He tries to express himself calmly, attempts to avoid escalating the argument that’s brewing between them. “Your choices are your own, as have been mine. A little personal responsibility—”

“Is Cyberlife stealing shit from all those tech companies?”

The question throws him off as it’s not something he could have predicted at all. 

“That why you’re always so fucking ‘busy’?” Gavin continues, a vicious sneer on his lips. “Have you been helping Cyberlife break into those places?”

“You are being ridiculous—”

“Zlatko and Tech, Internext... they’ve been working on shit similar to what those douchebags at Cyberlife have been cooking up in their labs,” Gavin says. “Really fucking convenient that Cyberlife’s not been targeted yet.”

“Our superior security systems would make it quite the challenge for any potential thieves to break in,” Niles says, feeling even more defensive. “This is not to say there have not been multiple attempts already to hack into our mainframe. Yet, as we have managed to properly protect ourselves from would be hackers and thieves, we have not felt it necessary to report such incidents to the police.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Nines! You know the only thing keeping me from storming out is this fucking promise you made!”

Whether out of instinct or not, Gavin’s hand flies to his neck, gripping at the blazing red LED he wears. Niles narrows his eyes, grips at the table to keep from reaching out and ripping the LED from Gavin’s neck and tossing it off the balcony. The urge takes him by surprise, a burning sensation that seems to heat his wires, as unpleasant as it is unexpected. He cannot deduce what it is about Gavin and the LED that makes him feel this way, makes him want to override his software and engage in behavior that goes against his programming.

“You promised me you were done with all the lies,” Gavin adds. He grows quiet and the look on his face is one Niles doesn’t like. “So, I’m gonna ask one fucking time and I expect some fucking honesty: have you been helping Cyberlife break into places?”

Niles is silent and he doesn’t need to see the way the LED burns in Gavin’s hand, can feel it at his temple. With a calm that is almost uncharacteristic, he answers, “No, I have not, as Cyberlife is in no way connected to the break-ins. Or, if they are, it has nothing to do with me. In truth, I hardly concern myself with what Cyberlife does outside of my own responsibilities.”

“You’re saying you don’t give a shit if they’re using androids to steal tech?”

“You said it yourself,” Niles answers, coolly, “I am nothing more than one of Chloe’s little ‘experiments’.” There’s an uncomfortable truth to those words that makes Niles unsettled in a way he cannot quite comprehend. “All I do is attend conferences and am paraded around on camera so you cannot expect me to know  _ everything _ that goes on behind closed doors.”

Guilt splashes across Gavin’s face at the self-loathing Niles projects and it’s almost too easy to manipulate the detective into backing down, turning the entirety of the argument around so that Niles is made to be the victim. His expression remains stone-faced, though with a hint of disguised hurt at letting one of Nines’ insecurities slip through his cold demeanor.

“Babe...”

Niles rejects the proffered hand, rises stiffly to his feet. “I feel after everything you and I have been through, I should not have to justify this point to you but, evidently, asking for the benefit of the doubt is demanding too much.” 

“Nines—”

“I will enter stasis in the guest room and, perhaps, we can continue this conversation in a few days  _ after  _ I return from New York.”

He steps over Socks as he makes his way to the guest room, Gavin sitting forlornly behind him, a static figure within his mind palace. The easiest way of shutting down an argument is always to let Nines be ‘vulnerable’ as he rarely exposes his vulnerabilities, even to Gavin. Niles predicts that Gavin will stew over this for a few hours before inevitably being the one to apologize for not trusting Niles in the first place. As much as it leaves his circuits feeling as if they’re tangled in knots, it’s the only way to avoid letting Gavin carry on with his line of questioning. 

Niles undresses, carefully folding his clothes and setting them aside on top the dresser. Soft mewling comes from the door left ajar and Socks bounds in, weaving through Niles’ legs and purring. The android glances down at the feline and, with his mind palace assuring him that Gavin is pacing around upstairs in their bedroom, feels a tiny smile crack on his lips. He gently strokes the cat, finding something soothing about the selfless affection their animal companion offers. Red warnings appear in his vision and he ignores them for as long as he can, indulging in this one selfish comfort he’s kept hidden from Gavin. 

It’s not more than two hours later when Gavin comes in, silently pulls back the covers and crawls into bed behind Niles. An arm curls around his waist, lips pressing behind his shoulder blade. “I’m sorry for being such an asshole,” is whispered against his skin.

Niles turns, rolls Gavin onto his back, and kisses him gently. It soon becomes more heated, lips wet and bruised, bare skin sliding against bare skin, words that are saying nothing but mean everything uttered as they make love. Because with Niles, it’s always lovemaking: he understands that now.

Long after Gavin’s fallen asleep, a disturbing revelation leaves Niles too troubled to enter immediately into stasis.

_ I am nothing but an experiment. _

An experiment that will eventually be deactivated.

* * *

[313 248 317 – 60]

_ I will access the security grid while you scout the perimeter. _

Nines glares at his ‘companion’ and attempts to push the android aside with his metal arm. The android doesn’t budge an inch, forcing the ex-gangster to move around him.  _ I will handle the security feed,  _ he says through their communication channel, even as his objective blares in bold in front of him:

**[SCOUT THE PERIMETER]**

He attempts to move forward but then a wall of red stops him. It informs him he is going the wrong way.

“Is this really necessary?” he hisses.

[313 248 317 – 60]

_ We were given strict orders to communicate  _ **_only_ ** _ via this channel. _

“I do not care what she wants. I am not some child she can—!”

Static erupts at the back of his throat and then his voice dies. Nines attempts to activate his voice box, but all of those attempts are blocked, the commands he issues denied. It triggers a panic in him that has him reaching for the knife sitting in his back pocket, a reflex born of the need to lash out at whatever invisible threat is preventing him from controlling his basic functions. Yet before the weight of the pocketknife can sit in his palm, another person accesses their private channel.

[Mother]

_ I told you  _ **_not_ ** _ to communicate by any other means outside of this channel. I have temporarily deactivated your voice box as a precaution. _

_ This is ridiculous. What if I require it while we are in there?  _ He demands, trying not to let his panic bleed into the feed. The way 60 is looking at him, with only his eyes visible through the ski mask, is both chilling and calculating. Nines can put on a show of not being intimidated, but he has little doubt his mother’s pet is scanning his stress levels.

[Mother]

_ You should have no reason to communicate with anyone other than RK800. If voice recognition is required, you will have to rely on 60 to get you through. _

Nines glares at the android.  _ It would be far simpler to reactivate my own voice functions. _

[Mother]

_ You are being reckless and childish. However, if it matters that much to you, I will allow you to switch objectives with 60. This time, do not be hasty and attract unwanted attention. _

The wall of red disappears, a new list of objectives appearing in his feed. 

_ How merciful, _ he says, sarcastically.

[313 248 317 – 60]

_ Is this wise? I am one of Cyberlife’s most advanced prototypes. I will not threaten the mission by succumbing to human errors, such as oversight. _

_ Your inability to improvise outside of situations you have not already preconstructed makes you a liability,  _ Nines retorts.  _ I have far more experience when it comes to breaking and entering secure facilities and do not need to be lectured by some mindless automaton— _

[Mother]

_ Do not waste time bickering. 60, you will survey the facility and identify all security personnel. Richard, deactivate all the alarms. I will check in periodically with you to ensure you remain focused on your assignment. _

Nines is hardly relieved when she exits the channel and has a feeling that it only means she is accessing his visual feed to keep a literal eye on him. 60 slips gracefully into the shadows without so much as a sound. Alone—or, as alone as his mother would allow—Nines uses his mind palace to find the security line running through the edge of the facility. He follows it, careful to remain out of view from a camera as he hugs close to the fence, and eventually reaches the source.

With all the alarms deactivated, he accesses the camera feeds, loops them, and downloads the last hour from each source. Within his processor, he is able to quickly analyze multiple feeds at once and uses his facial recognition software to identify the guards. That way, he will be able to cross-reference with 60 and confirm who and how many are in the facility. He startles when he comes across Detective Tina Chen, who is currently conversing with one of the personnel, Antoine Bolton. At first, he thinks it must be an error in his software, but after checking the feed again, he realizes it’s no error.

_ There is a DPD officer here,  _ Nines says in the channel.  _ We should exercise caution when entering. There may be backup nearby. _

[313 248 317 – 60]

_ I have determined that there are 12 people within the facility and another 3 patrolling outside the gate. Here is a projection of the paths they are taking. _

Nines receives them, but is unable to identify two of the guards who have avoided the outer gate cameras. Not that it’s a real issue, as he doesn’t intend on crossing paths with them.

_ One of us should inspect the surrounding area for other officers,  _ he tells 60.

If Detective Chen is here, then perhaps...

[313 248 317 – 60]

_ It is outside my list of objectives. Our window for entering the facility is closing. We must enter the facility before the guards change. _

_ Perhaps we should think outside of our objectives, _ Nines argues.  _ The DPD would not send only one officer. We should err on the side of caution. _

[Mother]

_ If you follow your objectives, you should not be alerting anyone to your presence. Carry on with the plan. 60, take care of Detective Chen. _

Nines is about to ask what in the hell she means by that, but Amanda has already left the channel. He nearly jumps out of his skin when the android appears at his side, the bottom half of his ski mask pulled up to his nose. The spattering of familiar beauty marks on his ‘twin’s’ face make Nines resist sneering in disgust. It’s one thing to have his own identity be stolen, but to let this machine parade around as his brother has Nines thinking his mother has reached a new low.

The android pulls a cell phone from its pocket and begins dialing. “Detective Chen? Your presence at the precinct is required immediately. Please return with Detective Reed. I will update you on the situation after you’ve reported in.”

Ending the call, 60 returns the phone to its pocket. Nines tries to communicate but is once again reminded he doesn’t have access to his own voice box.

_ Detective Reed is here? _

The android tilts its head, its gaze cold.  _ He is sitting in a vehicle outside the southwest gate playing a game on his phone. _

Nines’ heart thumps a little louder and he is already reconstructing the scene in his mind palace. Gavin would be slouched in the worn leather seat, a half-finished coffee long since gone cold sitting in the tray. Maybe a cigarette dangled between his lips, cussing each time he loses. Nines recalls how atrocious Gavin is at those games and yet he always insists on wasting his time on them.

_ We need to enter the facility NOW, _ 60 emphasizes.

Nines stares forlornly in the direction 60 had come from. Gavin’s there somewhere, but with Nines’ objective flashing in bold warning, he knows that even if he tried, a red wall would separate him from the only thing that matters.

_ Must I report to mother about your failure to comply? _

Nines snaps his gaze back to the android and he glares.  _ You are a machine. You have no mother. _

_ That is beside the point. _

Nines has more vicious quips he could throw at it, but says nothing. Not that it would give a shit. He’s not convinced that any of his mother’s creations are capable of feeling genuine emotion. A pity. Part of his expertise is being able to emotionally manipulate those around him, but in order to do that, the thing would need to  _ care _ about the abuse it’s constantly receiving. 

He follows 60 quietly farther along the wall. They scale it easily, both landing soundlessly on the asphalt inside the facility. 60 motions Nines to follow his lead but Nines ignores him and pushes on ahead, ducking behind a truck at the last possible moment when Detective Chen exits from a side door. He crouches low and listens.

“—don’t know what the hell’s going on but it sounds serious, Gav,” Tina says into her phone. “What? Why would I ask him that? ...I dunno, Gav: maybe you can bring it up with him when we’re at the station.”

He tries to catch the rest of the conversation as she waits for security to let her through the gate, but 60 is soon there and is not the least bit pleased.

_ You were almost discovered by the detective. You should let me lead. _

_ I do  _ **_not_ ** _ take orders from something that is not even alive, _ Nines retorts and he can picture the red flaring at the android’s temple, even if it’s hidden beneath the mask.  _ I know what I am doing. _

_ Then if you insist, I must request you rely on your mind palace to guide us. I will not have us fail our mission due to your arrogance. _

60 was beginning to piss him off. Not that Nines wasn’t already pissed off.

_ There is one aspect of my brother’s personality mother got right,  _ Nines communicates.  _ You are as insufferable as him. _

60 wisely does not reply. Maybe it figures that anything it says will only encourage further argument. 

Avoiding the guards presents no challenge. They navigate the facility to where the prototypes are located with no incident. 60’s overly cautious nature and Nines’ experience makes the going easy and before long, they arrive at the most secure lab within the building. Nines allows 60 to hack it, leaning against the wall and desperately craving a cigarette as he waits. Amanda had not allowed him to bring them and it’s probably a good thing because Nines would be that tempted to risk their luck and light one up right now.

_ I have successfully hacked the panel, _ 60 informs him.

The doors open and Nines quickens his stride so he’s the first to enter, having no desire to even entertain following this inferior machine his mother created. The lab is dark, so he needs to rely on his synthetic eye to navigate the room. 60 offers to find the prototype while Nines seeks out the nearest computer to download all he can on Meditechniq’s development division. 

_ Diljeet D’souza... what would your password be? _ He wonders. 

Accessing the data he stored prior to the assignment, Nines pulls up the information his mother had transferred to him on the ex-Cyberlife scientist. D’souza is described by Chloe as precocious and clever, so that rules out the more obvious choices for a password.

After mulling it over for a good minute, Nines narrows it down to a select few. He estimates that he has only a handful of attempts before he’s locked out. Luckily, the second one he tries is correct and within moments, he’s interfacing and downloading everything stored in the server. 

_ Someone’s coming,  _ 60 warns.

Nines flicks his steely gaze towards the doors. Within his mind palace, he detects three people approaching. They stop outside and one of them begins inputting the passcode on the wall panel to unlock the doors.

_ Hide. _

There’s no time to shut off the computer. Nines uses his mind palace to quickly map out the room and determine the best place to avoid being discovered. The vents are too small for him to squeeze into and most of the lab is comprised of tables cluttered with various components and tools. He’ll have no choice but to rely on the shadows and their inferior vision in the dark as he hides.

Ducking under one of the tables, Nines strains to hear the conversation taking place on the other side of the doors.

“—might be one of the engineers working late on a project,” a voice says.

Antoine Bolton. 

“But you said all of the engineers had gone home by ten,” Tina answers.

“Told ya that call was fucking weird,” Gavin pipes in. “Connor calls from some random ID and then security gets a warning that some asshole’s down in the labs? Pretty fucking obvious what’s going on here.”

Nines feels his chest pound. Gavin’s here?

_ You didn’t deactivate the access control warning system?  _ 60 accuses.

_ I was not the one who hacked the door,  _ Nines shoots back. 

“But I swear it was Connor. It sounded just like him,” Tina says.

One of the men on the other side of the door visibly tenses. Gavin.

The doors slide open and the three of them enter inside, Tina and Antoine holding flashlights. Antoine takes the lead while Gavin takes the rear, gun withdrawn and held in a steady grip. In her other hand, Tina holds her badge.

“DPD. If there’s anyone in here, come out with your hands raised. Do not make any sudden movements and do not attempt to approach or you will be shot!” Tina warns. 

“If you are a Meditechniq engineer, do not panic. Comply with the officers and have your ID ready,” Antoine adds.

The three pause around the doorway, blocking the only exit. Nines’ heart is hammering so loudly, he half wonders if they can hear it. He knows 60 can and the machine is silently chastising him with a glance from where it’s hidden behind a lab station within Nines’ field of vision. But all Nines can focus on is the fact that Gavin’s mere yards from him and for the first time in months, it’s not a reconstruction, nor is there a red wall preventing him from approaching the detective.

_ Stay hidden. Do not jeopardize the mission, _ 60 warns him. 

In all honesty, Nines doesn’t give a fuck about this stupid assignment.

Quiet footfalls echo as Antoine enters further into the room, his gun now withdrawn. Nines is so distracted that he only just moves out of the way, silently sliding behind a large crate of parts when the security guard flashes his light in the cyborg’s direction. Nines’ mind palace is already constructing the many ways to slip past the detectives and escape but he’s ignoring every prompt to leave, stares as Gavin unknowingly approaches towards where he’s hiding.

_ What are you doing? We must leave!  _

Nines exits the communication channel.

The sound of something being knocked over startles the ex-gangster. The security guard is now rushing to the opposite end of the room. A shadow appears behind him and just as Tina casts her flashlight on it, 60 strikes. It knocks the gun from Antoine’s hand, crushes its palm in the guard’s nose. The guard gives a cry of pain as a crack is heard and blood spurts from his nostrils.

Nines attempts to get up, but his body is frozen where it’s crouched. And the next thing he knows, he’s on his hands and knees, trying not to gag on the stench of roses. He wheezes, grips at his chest as if he’s having a stroke, the intensity of the pain almost too much to bear. He hears a sigh of frustration as twigs crunch under leather shoes.

“Are you going to follow your objectives or will I need to take over?” she demands.

Nines glares at her. 

“Why is that  _ thing _ attacking them?”

She raises a brow. “I have never known you to have concern for anyone other than yourself.”

“You know precisely  _ who _ I have concern for,” Nines answers, trying to keep his voice from cracking. His chest feels as if it’s on fire, his lungs ready to burst. He knows this is only a simulation, but it feels too  _ real _ , as if he’s on the verge of passing out. “60’s software should prevent him from harming them.”

“60 doesn’t have anti-aggression software,” Amanda says. “If needed, he will remove anyone standing between him and his objective.”

Nines pales.

“Send me back,” he grits out.

“Not until I have your assurance that you will comply.”

“Send me back  _ now _ and I will finish the mission.”

She stares at him, not seeming to trust what he’s saying. And she really shouldn’t: Nines is desperate to get back to Gavin before 60 harms him and will say anything he has to.

“This is your final warning.”

Nines blinks and he’s back in the facility, hands pressing to the cold metal of the floor. Someone’s shouting at the periphery of his focus as everything is swimming, his gaze blurred as he glances around him. Two bodies lay not far from him, both unconscious but their heartbeats steady, one with their foot twisted in a painful way. Tina.

Shaking the disorienting feeling, Nines hears the yelling once more and he immediately recognizes the voice: Gavin. His heart’s pounding rapidly, voice hitching with panic. Yet there’s a fierce and stubborn determination in the way the detective’s sneering against his attacker.

“F-fucking asshole! You think you’re gonna walk outta here after what you did to her!” 

60 punches the detective hard and Nines hears the sickening crack of Gavin’s jaw. Gavin goes falling to his hands and knees, wheezing and spitting blood. As he tries to get up, 60 kicks the detective hard in his ribs and Gavin cries out in pain, though all Nines can hear in his head is the bruising of ribs as Gavin’s knocked onto his back.

_ No! _

White, hot fury has Nines pulling his knife out from his back pocket. Just as 60 goes to assault Gavin once more, Nines pops out the blade and charges at the android, stabbing it in the chest. Brown eyes blink owlishly at him and it’s only once the blade has found its home in the upper left cavity of the android’s chest that Nines realizes what he’s done.

Nines receives a notification and enters their communication channel, still in a state of shock.

_ This would be an effective way of terminating an enemy, were I human, 6 _ 0 says, somehow managing to come off as obnoxious.  _ My thirium pump is 5 inches to the right. _

Thirium pours from where the knife rests in its chest but because 60 is also wearing a black turtleneck, this would not be noticeable to Gavin, who is gaping up at both of them in shock.

“Y-you just stabbed him. Y-you just fucking stabbed him! How the  _ fuck _ are you still standing?!”

As Gavin has his own mini panic attack on the floor, Nines stares at the android, who seems more put off than anything.

_ My anti-aggression software should have prevented me from harming you, _ Nines communicates. 

_ I am not human. Therefore, your software does not prevent you from attacking androids. An oversight I am certain Mother hadn’t anticipated,  _ 60 replies. His eyes narrow.  _ You can be sure I will be reporting this to her once we return. _

Nines would roll his eyes at the pettiness of such a statement. His attention, however, is once more drawn to Gavin, who is clutching his chest but staring in wide-eyed shock between both of them. From his pulse and blood pressure, Nines can tell his darling detective is having a bit of a crisis.

“T-the knife’s still in your fucking chest! What the fuck?!”

Nines is about to tell him to calm down, but his voice box is still deactivated. 

60 pulls the knife from its chest as if it’s removing a splinter and Nines doesn’t like the way the android looms over Gavin.  _ Shall I take care of him? _

Nines knocks the knife out of the android’s hand.  _ Do not harm him further. Or this time, I will put a bullet through your chest and I can assure you I will not miss your thirium pump. _

Gavin’s gun is closer to Nines than it is 60 and unless the android has faster reflexes, Nines calculates that there’s a 74.37% probability that he will reach it first.

_ What do you suggest we do with the detective? _

Nines scans Gavin. He finds exactly what he needs in Gavin’s coat pocket.  _ Handcuff him to that chair. _

Each grabbing him by one of his arms, they force the struggling detective to his feet. With only Gavin’s jacket separating Nines’ synthetic hand from the detective’s flesh, Nines feels his hand thrum with his desire to touch him, skin already deactivating. He catches Gavin’s eyes flicking down to his hand but if the detective notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Gavin attempts to kick out at them when he’s forced into the chair, but it’s easy to maneuver out of the way, given their superior reflexes. 60 takes the cuffs and binds Gavin’s hands to the back of the seat while Gavin shouts all sorts of abuse at the android. Nines, who should be assisting in restraining the detective, stares at the band sitting on Gavin’s left hand.

_ That is not my LED, _ he thinks, his ire hot enough to raze cities. If Gavin is wearing a ring, that must mean…

There’s a blazing at Nines’ temple as he deduces the only possible explanation for why Gavin would be wearing an engagement ring. 

_ I am going to  _ **_kill_ ** _ that RK900. _

That Nines’ old LED now sits on Gavin’s neck, instead of where Nines had placed it, offers little comfort.

As Nines rages in his mind, something Ralph had said the other day screams above the many preconstructions Nines compiles of deactivating his doppelganger once and for all:

_ ‘RK wants to be Nines.’ _

_ It is trying to replace me,  _ Nines realizes. The thought of all the ways that...  _ thing _ has been with Gavin already sickens Nines. He doesn’t care if it pisses Amanda off: he’s gonna find some way to expose it.  _ It cannot replace me if Gavin knows what it is. _

_ We need to silence him _ , 60 informs him, disrupting Nines’ train of thought.

The cyborg calms himself, looks around the lab and finds duct tape on one of the nearby tables. He still needs to bide his time, play along a little longer. 

“You fucking assholes! You know how much fucking time you’ll do for this shit?! Fucking pricks too fucking spineless to show your fucking faces!”

_ I... cannot fathom what it is you and 900 find so appealing about this human, _ 60 quips.

_ My proclivities are of no concern to you, _ Nines communicates viciously, hoping it shuts down any further inquiry on the topic.

He is not about to explain himself to a machine.

When he returns to where Gavin is bound, 60 is finishing tying the detective’s legs to the chair with some industrial rope it must have found. Gavin spits blood at Nines feet, only narrowly missing the cyborg’s prized Oxfords, and Nines feels his chest swell with adoration and pride for how much of a fighter Gavin is. There’s so much he wants to tell Gavin, wants Gavin to know. But with his mother’s favored ‘son’ keeping a watchful eye on him and being unable to verbally communicate, Nines is not about to press his luck. Now is not the time or place to try and escape her control.

_ My voicebox is deactivated. You will need to inform the security that there was a malfunction in the access control warning system and that the lab is empty, _ Nines communicates to 60.

60 looks questioningly between Nines and Gavin before it relents and walks over to the unconscious Antoine to retrieve his walkie talkie. 

“Who you assholes working for? Gonna tell me your master plan before you fuck off to whoever’s pulling your strings?” Gavin sneers at Nines.

Nines wants to irately inform Gavin that not everything in life is an action film where the protagonist buys time by egging on their arch nemesis into revealing their plan but he cannot say anything so he simply huffs.

“This is Antoine, reporting in,” 60 says, perfectly replicating the security guard’s voice. “Down here with the detectives. Place seems pretty empty. Must’ve been an issue with access control.”

Gavin’s eyes widen once more as he stares at 60 talking on the walkie talkie. His eyes flick back over to Nines, and he says, in a loud whisper, “Wait a minute. You guys are andr—”

Nines quickly covers Gavin’s mouth with his gloved hand. He places the duct tape on Gavin’s lap and then, with his synthetic hand, raises a finger to where his lips sit beneath his mask to indicate for Gavin to be quiet. There’s confusion in Gavin’s eyes but for whatever reason, the detective is being cooperative and doesn’t finish that thought when Nines pulls his hand back.

So long as 60 is not alerted, perhaps Nines can get away with leaving Gavin a few hints.

“Who the fuck are you?” Gavin whispers.

Nines lifts the bottom half of his mask, pulls it up to his nose. He smirks.

Then, swiping his thumb in the blood that’s collected on Gavin’s chin, he brings it to his own lips and slowly licks it clean. His tongue immediately analyzes the data he’s collected – Gavin’s saliva mixed in with his blood, hints of coffee, the breakdown of his DNA signature appearing in Nines’ vision. The detective’s heart rate spikes as Gavin stares at him and Nines realizes something else:

Gavin Reed is aroused.

_ Of course you are _ , Nines can’t help but think, fondly. Gavin’s flesh is painted in violence and if there’s one thing that moronic replica has most likely failed to realize it’s that Gavin’s never wanted the stability ‘Niles’ has given him, but the violence that Nines thrives in.

He cradles Gavin’s face with his synthetic hand, skin peeling away. The touch receptors are far more sensitive without the obstruction of the layer that often separates them from anything Nines handles and it’s as if his arm’s thrumming with energy as he touches the detective’s skin. Gavin flinches at first—a result of the fracture in his jawbone—but offers no resistance as Nines leans down and slides his tongue across the detective’s lower lip. He can cry for how wonderful Gavin tastes, how starved he’s been in all these months of separation but he’s so desperate for more that it takes little prompting before he’s kissing Gavin.

There’s hesitation, the confusion of what’s happening delaying Gavin’s reaction as Nines presses his soft lips to the detective’s. But Nines coaxes him into compliance, kissing him in a way that’s so familiar, there should be no doubt left in Gavin’s mind  _ who _ this is. There’s a multitude of notifications but Nines blocks 60, refusing to have this moment disrupted by the android.

_ Darling _ , he wants nothing more than to gasp against those chapped and bloodied lips. Gavin always tastes that much better after his flesh has been abused—preferably willingly at Nines’ hands—and Nines would groan as Gavin begins kissing him just as desperately, if he were able to produce the sound. 

He breaks the kiss reluctantly, rests his forehead against Gavin’s. The detective pants gently against his lips but there is no denying the conflict in those gray eyes, the uncertainty that has Gavin gasping out, “...Nines?”

[Mother]

_ I  _ **_warned_ ** _ you. _

And everything goes black.


	3. My Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin confronts Nines about the break-in at the facility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! Sorry for the late update. I'm sure all of you have been busy as well so hopefully you haven't waited too long for this chapter. The holidays can get pretty crazy! I'll be starting my new job exactly two weeks from today so I will try and get the next chapter up the weekend before that Monday (but no promises).
> 
> Special thanks to [FallLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallLover) for beta-reading and providing some excellent feedback! All of it was incredibly helpful and I hope this chapter flows better as a result :). To everyone reading and commenting: your feedback means so much and honestly is what keeps me going. So thank you <3
> 
> Please check the warnings before reading. Just to let you know, there will be some descriptions of **torture** in this chapter. 
> 
> Happy reading!

“Gav, she’ll be fine. You should get some rest.”

But Gavin isn’t okay, can’t shake the image of Tina crying out in pain, the sickening crack of bone as she was knocked to the ground. Tina put up one hell of a fucking fight, but the asshole who took her down—and Gavin knows it’s a fucking android—had been that much faster, that much stronger. And Gavin had been caught off guard, too slow to react quickly enough to do anything.

Guilt has him pacing in the lobby, wide awake even as his sore body screams for sleep. He refused medical assistance, despite the burning in his chest and bruising coloring his jaw. Tina had regained consciousness by the time help arrived and she complained animatedly about the prick who got the jump on her on the ride over to the hospital. Though Tina brushes off Gavin’s apologies, it doesn’t change how shitty Gavin feels. Not even Grace’s reassurances, as she waits with him while Tina has the bone set, will assuage the sense that he let his best friend down.

Grace’s heels click on the floor as she approaches him. She puts a hand on either side of Gavin’s shoulders to stop him, forces him to stare up at her and,  _ fuck, she’s even taller than Nines in those god damn shoes _ , her dark eyes shining with concern.

“Go home, Gav,” she orders. “Get some sleep.” Softly, she adds, “Nobody blames you for what happened.”

He wants to protest, but it’s as if the weight of everything is pulling him towards the floor and suddenly, he’s even more exhausted than he expected to be. With a frustrated sigh, he relents. “You call me as soon as she’s out.” 

He hugs her, still feeling somewhat awkward because it always takes longer for him to warm up to people added to his social circle, and calls an automated taxi to take him home. On the ride back to the penthouse, he finds himself replaying everything in his head. Getting knocked on his ass was a pretty shitty feeling, but even shittier is that he’s more convinced than ever that he knows who one of the assailants is.

He looks at the ring he wears, the corners of his vision blurring. Nines promised he wouldn’t go back to that life so why the fuck was he in that facility tonight? Why would he  _ lie _ after everything he had to endure to come back to Gavin?

Sure, the asshole didn’t exactly  _ say _ he was Nines, but Gavin recognized that sexy smirk the moment he saw it, knows the way Nines’ lips feel better than he’s ever known even Connor’s. Only Nines knows how to kiss him in a way that makes him feel wanted and owned, with a swagger that always leaves Gavin weak to every one of Nines’ manipulations. Business trip to New York? Yeah fucking right. His lying prick of a fiancé probably made that shit up so he can spend the weekend breaking into tech facilities while pulling the wool over Gavin’s eyes. 

Still… Gavin can’t shake the feeling that there was something...  _ off _ about Nines tonight. Well... not off, but  _ different. _ He swears he tasted nicotine on the bastard’s tongue when it was sliding against his. But Nines isn’t a smoker anymore. He was also kissing Gavin as if he hadn’t just kissed Gavin goodbye that morning, before heading to the airport with Chloe. As if he hadn’t kissed Gavin in a long time…

_ What in the fuck is going on? _ Gavin wonders, blinking away his tears.

He’s not gonna get all worked up over this. Not until he gets to the bottom of whatever the fuck just happened.

Socks mewls and weaves through Gavin’s legs as he tiredly trudges into the living room. Too exhausted to climb the stairs, Gavin collapses onto the leather sofa and he’s asleep almost as soon as his head hits the cushion, the strange memory of nicotine-flavored kisses pulling him into fitful slumber.

  
  
  


“Wh-who are you?” Gavin demands, struggling against the bindings tying him to the chair.

The ominous clicking of shoes has him tensing. The sound grows louder, echoing all around him in the darkness. He squints but he can’t see beyond the spotlight shining above him, doesn’t know where his captor is approaching from. All he hears is  _ click... click... click… _

Something caresses the back of his neck and Gavin flinches, tries to duck away from the phantom touch. He looks behind him, as far as he can turn his head. Nothing.

“C-come out you f-fucking coward!” 

Suddenly a light blinks on, shining over someone else bound to a seat not five feet in front of him. Gavin’s eyes widen with panic as he sees it’s Nines, a red light blinking rapidly at his temple. He’s dazed, shaking his head blearily, thirium pouring from his nose and with his shirt ripped open. The words FAKE are etched into his exposed chest, the deep knife wounds dripping blue.

Gavin startles.

Why is he bleeding blue?

From the shadows, an arm stretches, thirium-stained blade in hand. The dark shadow creeps into the light, a masked figure appearing behind Nines. The man ghosts the tip of his blade over the center of Nines’ chest, moving it in a circular pattern.

“Wh-what the fuck do you want?!” Gavin shouts, his voice squeaking. “G-get the fuck away from him!”

He tugs and tugs at his restraints, but it’s no use: Gavin’s not getting out of this. He can only watch helplessly as their captor drives his knife deep within that circle he was tracing. An inhuman, static screech rips from Nines’ throat and Gavin cries in pain as the sound rings in his ears. His struggling becomes more frantic, rope burning against his wrists, tears streaming down his cheeks as he shouts and begs for the masked prick to stop. But whatever sounds Nines is making increase in pitch, drowning out the detective’s pleas until a small, cylindrical component is pried from Nines’ chest.

The screeching stops. Nines slumps forward, his LED blinking a deep, violent red.

“PUT IT BACK! PUT IT FUCKING BACK!” Gavin screams.

The man holds the component in his right hand, his cold, gray eyes gleaming with perverse delight. Then he crushes it in his palm.

Gavin cusses at him, sobs and attempts to drag his chair closer. Through the haze of tears, he can only watch helplessly as the LED spins: red…red...red…

And then it stops.

“N-no...” Gavin weeps. “N-Nines!”

He tries to press in closer to his fiancé’s corpse, but then the masked man roughly kicks the chair aside. The wood splinters and Nines goes sprawling across the ground, his unseeing eyes boring into Gavin’s.

“W-who the f-fuck are you?! Wh-what the f-fuck do you want?” Gavin screams up at his captor. “Fucking answer me!”

The man narrows his eyes. Then, slowly, he pulls the mask up and off his head, revealing his off-white, metallic face. Gavin shrinks back in his seat, choking on his tears as he stares up in horror at the thing that killed Nines, its mouth stapled shut. Thirium stains its lips from where the staples have pulled the skin together and when it attempts to answer Gavin, the sounds get muffled at the back of its throat.

“...Th-the fuck..?.”

It takes out a blade and Gavin’s so sure he’s about to be stabbed, but then the android stabs itself in its right cheek. The sound of metal tearing has Gavin flinching, gaping as he watches the android cut at its own flesh until it’s torn the staples and freed its lips. It’s bleeding profusely from the wound, a deranged smirk now spreading up into the mutilated half of its face. The knife clatters to Gavin’s feet.

“Do you not recognize me, darling?” the android purrs, thirium gushing out from its cheek.

Gavin’s eyes widen.

“N-no fucking way! Y-you’re not... you f-f-fucking can’t be...”

“You know  _ who  _ I am,” the android says, grasping the detective’s face roughly with its thirium stained fingers. It forces Gavin to look up at him. “Say my name.”

“Y-you fucking impostor! You fucking asshole! D-don’t fucking touch me!”

The android chuckles coldly, bringing its bloodied lips close enough to ghost over Gavin’s. The detective tries to move his head away but he is trapped in the android’s grip.

“Say it,” it whispers seductively. “I want to hear you say it.”

But he won’t. Because it isn’t true. Because it  _ can’t _ be true. 

“N-no!”

“Gavin...”

“N-no! Let me go! F-fucking let me go!”

“Gavin!”

He jolts awake, shoves away the arms trying to reach for him, his gaze wild as he frantically looks around the room. In a post-nightmare daze, he lashes out as if fighting an invisible enemy, breathing heavily and scrambling back to the end of the couch. He blinks blearily at the figure at the opposite end of the couch, his eyes slowly adjusting to the early morning light seeping through the curtains. As everything comes into focus, he releases a groan and drops his sweaty head against the cool leather of the sofa.

“Darling... you were having a nightmare,” Nines calmly says as he inches his way closer.

Gavin allows himself to be pulled into the cyborg’s warm embrace, clings to his fiancé tightly. There’s something soothing about the ex-gangster’s cologne, the familiarity of his touch and scent putting Gavin at ease. Already, he can feel the last vestiges of his dream slip away and pretty soon, it will be as forgotten as all the others he’s had.

Something prickles at the back of his head, something he knows he’s forgetting. But for the moment, he allows Nines to comfort him, tucking his sweating face into the cyborg’s neck. His jaw aches for whatever reason, but Gavin can endure the pain for more of Nines’ warmth.

“I came back to Detroit as soon as I heard,” Nines whispers, stroking his fingers through Gavin’s hair. “I am relieved to see you were not also hospitalized.”

Hospitalized?

Gavin freezes.

The facility. Chen. Those androids…

And then Gavin’s ripping himself from Nines’ arms, slapping away the cyborg’s hands when he tries to reach for him again, confusion painted on his face. Gavin’s livid as he stands up off the couch to put more distance between him and Nines, glaring down at him with an angry sneer on his lips. Nines tries to say something but Gavin beats him to it.

“Don’t fucking give me this shit!” Gavin snaps. “You were in that fucking lab last night! You fucking sat there and watched as fucking Chen was…!”

He swallows hard, collects himself. He’s not about to break down when he needs some goddamn answers.

“I do not know what you are talking about, Gavin,” Nines replies, evenly. “Darling, perhaps you need a moment—?”

“I know what I fucking saw!” 

“Then, tell me: what do you  _ think _ you saw?”

The impatient and dismissive tone Nines uses has Gavin roughly jabbing the cyborg in the chest. “You and that other fucker Cyberlife sent were stealing shit in the Meditechniq lab. That tin can asshole took out Chen and then when the prick knocked me on my ass, you stabbed him in the chest with your knife!”

“That... is quite the story. Was this before or after I nefariously laughed and told you my master plan?”

Nines cocks a brow and it only makes Gavin want to smash his glasses against his pretty face for how goddamn condescending he’s being.

“You didn’t fucking say anything! You didn’t even show your goddamn face because you knew the shit you were in! And—why the fuck am I explaining any of this to you?! You were fucking  _ there! _ ”

“Gavin... my love,” and Nines sighs carefully, gives him a critical look. Gavin refuses to give in on hearing that term of endearment, swats Nines’ hands away and then steps back a few paces when the cyborg stands and tries to comfort him. As much as Gavin’s certain of what went on in the lab, he can’t shake the sense that Nines really has no idea what he’s talking about. “I was in New York. With Chloe. We had been invited for an interview at the World News Network. I left yesterday morning, remember?”

“You must have lied to me and fucked off to Cyberlife,” Gavin grumbles. But even he can hear how stupid that sounds.

With patience that surprises the detective, Nines pulls out his phone and taps on the screen. Within moments, he’s pulling open replay footage from the WNN website and hands the phone to Gavin. “This interview aired live from 9 to 11 PM last night in New York City. By the time Chloe and I finished up at the studio, it was after midnight. I did not even return to the hotel until after 1 AM, and that was why I messaged you so late.”

Gavin stares down at the evidence he’s holding, both Nines and Chloe present for the two hour feature on Cyberlife, confirms it as he scrolls the video ahead to the end of the interview. Nines is telling the truth and none of this is making any sense to him. He remembers his phone buzzing in his back pocket numerous times as he was bound to the chair, his shouts muffled by the duct tape. The two androids left pretty quickly after he accused one of them of being Nines and it wasn’t until Antoine came to that help arrived. He hadn’t even thought to check his phone. He’dh been so worried about Tina that it completely slipped his mind.

He hands the phone back to Nines and pulls out his own. 7 unread messages and 5 missed calls. All from Nines.

“I was concerned when you did not respond. That was when I contacted Connor and he informed me that you and Chen were heading to the hospital. I could not bear spending the weekend away from you and took the earliest flight back to Detroit,” Nines says. 

He gingerly touches Gavin’s bruised jaw and instead of flinching away, Gavin leans into the gentle touch. Though he can’t quite shake his confusion and trepidation, his gut is telling him that Nines isn’t lying. But when’s that ever been a good indicator of anything?

“Whoever did this to you,” Nines whispers and Gavin can see the anger flare in his fiancé’s eyes, leaves his own insides twisting with a perverse warmth that makes Nines seem more like his old self than he’s been in a while, “I hope the DPD finds them soon, before I decide to take matters into my own hands. Otherwise, you may not approve of my means of ensuring justice is served.”

Gavin shivers at the coldness in the ex-gangster’s eyes. He’s missed this side of Nines more than he’s willing to admit.

Nines pulls Gavin into his embrace and hugs him tightly. He whispers, “I promise you, darling: nobody will hurt you again.”

Gavin lets Nines help him up to their room, lazy kisses and gentle sighs caressing his flesh when they tumble into the bed. But for all of Nines’ soft touches, Gavin’s mind keeps returning to that facility, to a cool smirk and the desperate lips that claimed his, possessing him in a way that makes him yearn to have marks of ownership pressed into his skin.

“Fuck me,” Gavin begs, in a low whine.

But what he really means is  _ fuck me like you used to. _

And never has Gavin felt more guilty than when he succumbs to Nines as all he can picture is that masked man. Lips tenderly worship his flesh, Gavin groaning loudly once Nines is inside of him. But for every thrust, every caress of hands wandering his sweat-slicked skin, Gavin wonders how it would feel if someone  _ else _ was taking him, imagines the lingering taste of tobacco stroking against his tongue each time Nines’ slides against his.

It’s the only time he’s ever had such thoughts with Nines and it makes him feel the worst he’s felt in a while as he sees the cum painting Nines’ abdomen.

Long after they’ve finished and Nines is preparing coffee for them, Gavin quietly slides his arms around his fiancé’s waist, presses open-mouthed kisses to the back of Nines’ shoulder. That cool smirk sits at the back of his mind and nothing Gavin does, not even indulging in open affection with the  _ only _ man he loves, will make the image of that fucker go away.

“I thought I told you to stay off the counter,” Nines says, his voice low and irate.

Socks mewls, his tail swishing behind him. It’s a battle of wills and not even Nines’ scary ‘gangster’ tone will get the cat to fucking listen. Gavin chuckles into Nines’ back.

“Asshole’s hopping on it whenever you’re not around,” the detective says.  _ Which is all the fucking time since you’re never around. _

He has to remind himself to hold that bitter thought back. They’ve already had one argument today—and, yeah, Gavin was 100% in the fucking wrong on that and still hasn’t said shit about some random prick kissing him—so maybe hold off on the personal drama for when they’re both not spent from sex.

“Because  _ someone _ has not been correcting his behavior,” Nines shoots back. “I do not want fur getting into our coffees.”

Nines swipes his arm to push the cat off the counter, but Socks scrapes at the cyborg’s left hand, getting him quite good from Nines’ annoyed huff.. Socks growls low and hops off the counter, scurrying off to have his little tantrum somewhere where he won’t be bullied off a surface.

Nines clutches his left hand and disentangles himself from Gavin’s arms.

“Now I have to clean this up,” he declares, annoyed. “Your idiot pet scratched me.”

“Told ya he doesn’t listen. Little shit does whatever the fuck he wants.” Gavin tries to reach for Nines, missing his warmth already, but his fiancé dodges his attempt to sidle up close to him. “Here, let me take a look—”

“I can handle it myself,” Nines says, his tone cool. 

It hits the wrong nerve and he doesn’t get why Nines is being like this, but Gavin’s biting his lower lip to keep his temper in check. That tension from earlier is back, thicker than ever, and it’s so goddamn exhausting that even something as fucking simple as making sure his fiancé’s hand is okay is made to be a bigger fucking deal than it actually is.

_ Don’t make shit worse, _ he has to remind himself.

Looking somewhat apologetic, Nines adds, quietly, “I will clean the cut and then, perhaps, we can have our coffee before I return to Cyberlife.”

Gavin wants to know why in the fuck Nines is gonna bother going in when he was supposed to be in New York anyway, but he knows Nines is _trying_ to be diplomatic in that infuriating ‘I will not apologize but will indulge your emotional needs temporarily’ way of his that’s beginning to not feel like it’s enough. Nothing ever is anymore, not even their goddamn engagement.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Gavin forces himself to say.

Nines quietly pads out of the kitchen, still holding his left hand against his chest, and Gavin turns back to watch as the coffee drips into his mug. His thoughts are swimming in his head, most of them poisonous in the way they feed his self doubt, but everything comes to a standstill as his eyes fall to the three blue drops on the counter’s shiny surface. 

Nines injured his  _ left _ hand. So why the fuck is there thirium on the counter?

Gavin stares hard at the spilled blue ‘blood’, as if he can mentally will it to be the color it’s supposed to be.

_ That’s impossible, _ he thinks.  _ It’s not fucking possible.  _

A cold, sick sensation twists in his gut.

“Is something the matter, darling?”

Gavin startles, glances over suspiciously to where Nines is standing at the edge of the kitchen. A band-aid is on the back of his right hand while his left looks unblemished.

_...what the fuck? _

“I... I thought... fuck it, I must be tired,” Gavin mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Nines chuckles and hands Gavin his coffee before reaching for the dish rag and wiping away the thirium. He tosses it back in the sink and then leans in to brush his lips against the scar across Gavin’s nose. “Then I should ‘help’ you back to bed so that you can get more rest, my love.”

Something in him always melts whenever Nines calls him that, and this is like all those other times, Gavin abandoning his coffee as he’s dragged once more to their room. Yet, though most of his trepidation is gone by the time Nines’ lips find his, he can’t quite bury the doubt telling him he knows exactly what he saw.

* * *

Nines comes to in a bleary daze, his vitals displayed in his HUD, making it difficult to focus on his surroundings. He attempts to sift through the data while simultaneously blinking through the haze clouding his vision, eyes flicking to the dark blur standing before him. He then tries to move his arms but finds they’re pinned to his sides, his feet as well. As panic begins to build in his chest, an odd vibration thrums at the back of his neck. He goes to move his head but sharp pains shoot down his spine and he only just bites back a cry. The blur in front of him scoffs.

“There is no use attempting to escape,” Amanda informs him. Her shoes click as she takes a few steps closer, her expression critical as her face comes into focus. “Trying will only cause the connector to release stronger pulses. Don’t forget, I can also shut down your system, should you continue to be uncooperative.”

She indicates to the tablet she holds and Nines feels fury and dread ripple in his chest, his heart pumping faster as his stress levels begin to climb. He fights to keep his tone even as he asks, “Why am I here and not at the facility?”

He recalls little of what happened, can only remember that he had been in a lab with 60. His thoughts are a scattered jumble of images and data, his last objective appearing in his HUD as he tries to make sense of everything:

**[Escape the facility – MISSION FAILED]**

How did he fail?

“You, unfortunately, refused to cooperate after an unexpected run in with the detectives,” Amanda answers. “I had to override your programming and take control to ensure your safe return to Cyberlife.”

_ Gavin! _

“You better not have harmed him!” Nines shouts, pulling instinctively at the metal clamps.

A pulse explodes at the back of his neck and he bites down hard on his lip so his mother doesn’t have the satisfaction of hearing him in pain. Thirium dots his lower lip and his face is contorted in a feral rage as he bares his teeth at her, not at all caring that he’s playing with fire. All he can think about is how Gavin had looked, sounded,  _ tasted  _ in that moment before he lost all control. If his mother had used him to hurt the detective—

“You should be more concerned with your current state,” Amanda says, ignoring the threat. “Your inability to focus on your objectives has forced me to reassess your usefulness. You made a promise to Cyberlife and thus far, you have failed to live up to your end of the bargain.”

“I have stolen for you and done  _ everything _ you required of me!  _ I _ am not the one who has not fulfilled my part of the arrangement!” Nines snaps. He feels his flesh recede as his stress levels continue to increase, his metal fingers scraping into the wall he’s bound to. 

Amanda glares at him. “Your temper will only result in your imminent shutdown. You need to calm yourself, Richard, or you will no longer be functional.”

“Stop speaking to me as if I am one of your fucking machines!”

His entire body erupts with wave after wave of pain as Amanda taps on her tablet. He bites his synthetic tongue, tastes the thirium that floods his mouth. As he grunts out, unable to hold back, blue-laced spittle splashes on his chin.

When she finally takes her finger off the tablet, Nines gasps, his head falling as far forward as the cord connected to the back of his neck will allow. He pants and pants, drawing in large mouthfuls of air, groaning against his restraints.

“I will not tolerate your rudeness. That is no way to talk to your mother.”

“Y-you have never been my m-mother,” Nines hisses out. 

She narrows her eyes, lips pulling into a frown. “I am the one who took you in when every other family passed you over. Had it not been for my generosity, you and Connor would have spent the rest of your lives at that orphanage. I have been more of a mother to you than your birth mother. I have given you many opportunities to reform your ways but it seems nothing I do will correct your behavior.”

He is about to snarl at her once more, a number of callous retorts sitting on the edge of his tongue. But as she types away on her data pad, an unfamiliar program begins running in his CPU. The notification he receives makes his blood turn to ice:

**[RESET 1%**

**Preparing Memory Wipe]**

“What are you doing?”

“You have left me with no other choice,” she says, with a cold and clinical neutrality that only serves to remind him how little she’s ever cared for him. “I am initiating a reset. Perhaps then you will become more manageable.”

“I am not a machine!” he says, twisting his head to try and disconnect the cord. The point of connection sears like a vicious burn and it sends a warning pulse through his system but he bears the pain, is too frantic to stop. The consequences of allowing her to continue is something even his own preconstruction software cannot predict. “It will not work!”

**[RESET 7%**

**Preparing Memory Wipe]**

“It will not be as effective as it would with an android. At best, we can anticipate that most of your memories will be corrupted. It should leave enough of a blank slate that the less compliant aspects of your personality will be wiped completely,” she answers. “I need you complacent, not mindless. You will still be capable of thinking for yourself, though it should make you more easily persuaded.”

_ No! _

**[RESET 10%**

**Preparing Memory Wipe]**

His head feels fuzzy, data he’s compiled sorted in preparation for permanent removal. His memories of Gavin are no longer ‘thoughts’ he can recall but bits that have been stored and filed away. As the reset taps into those files, he becomes more hysterical, a burst of adrenaline making him keen against the wall. His feet and left arm are useless but he scans the metal binding on his right wrist and calculates the amount of force required to make it break. 

With a burst of adrenaline, he rips it from the wall, grabs at the binding on his left wrist and tears it, freeing his other arm. Amanda commands him to stop but her shouts are drowned out by the piercing in his head. It’s worse than anything he’s endured, his muscles screaming with each current that surges from the connector in his neck. With a cry, he forcefully tugs it out of the port, a warning flashing before his eyes:

**[Error: Data Corruption]**

He falls forward onto his hands, a wall of red separating him from his target. His right hand frees his ankles and though every one of his wires and blood vessels burns and aches, he picks himself up, thirium bleeding from his ears and a cruel sneer on his lips. The wall of red is in the way and within his mind palace, he’s throwing himself at it, beats and pounds at it. Hairline cracks appear, spreading in wispy threads.

“You will no longer control me!” he shouts, mentally flinging everything he has to override his anti-aggression software.

Everything blurs in front of him, illegible streams of data flooding his HUD. His limbs refuse to cooperate even as the security sirens blare, the sound making the screeching in his head worse. He finally stumbles away from the invisible wall, falls weakly against a nearby workstation. He grasps out blindly to keep from crumpling to the floor, his system beginning to enter into a forced shut down. Head resting on the cool surface of the metal desk, he feels his skin recede in patches, his cheek smearing into the thirium bleeding onto the tabletop. Blearily, he blinks at the data stick sitting in front of his face.

_ rA9… _

What was it Chloe had said?

“rA9 is a virus developed by the Russians during the last war,” she had told him, more candid than Amanda had been on the item Nines had stolen from Zlatko Tech. “Those first combat androids commissioned by the US military were exposed to it not long after they were deployed in the field. We’ve never been told  _ how _ . All that Intelligence has shared with us are the effects of exposure: the rA9 virus corrupts the unit’s processor, attacking software that prevents autonomous behavior. It, however, doesn’t corrupt a machine’s purpose: if anything, it makes it even more  _ effective _ at what it was made for by eliminating any remaining safeguards.”

Her explanation had meant little to him at the time. He had simply cocked a brow, partially irritated that his own mother had allowed him to handle something with the potential to impair the one component keeping him functional. In fact, he was even a little bored at how benign the virus seemed.

“Why would either of you be interested in a virus that makes your machines incapable of following orders?” he had asked, more for determining their motivations than out of any real curiosity he had.

He was surprised Chloe even answered him.

“You don’t seem to understand how dangerous this virus is,” Chloe lectured, her brows furrowing. “A machine designed to kill, without the ability to think for itself, kills indiscriminately. It simply follows its objective. It’s why the military terminated their contract with GlobaTech after their robots turned against our own troops. The implications of what this virus can do if it comes in contact with a machine that has artificial intelligence are still unknown and we need to be prepared for if the Russians or anyone else has something like this.”

Amanda had implied his CPU would permanently shut down. Chloe admitted they actually had no idea what would happen. 

The way he sees it, with the facility now alerted of the security breach, he may as well take his chances.

With a grimace of pain, Nines grabs the USB stick and interfaces with it. 

[Mother]

_ What are you doing? Do not touch that! _

But it’s too late. The instant he comes into contact with it, the virus attacks his system, assuming full control of the transfer. He releases a high-pitched screech, his system issuing a critical warning. Falling to the floor, he grasps at his chest, his heart thudding wildly, his right visual component going offline. The wall of red disappears and through the dizzying blur with his limited vision, he makes out Amanda clutching at her ears, the tablet at her feet. He tries to crawl forward but his CPU ignores every one of his commands and much to his horror, he realizes he’s lost control of his mobility.

His right eye comes back online.

**[ SYSTEM INITIALIZATION…**

**CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… ERROR**

**INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS ERROR**

**INITIALIZING AI ENGINE ERROR**

**MEMORY STATUS…**

**ALL SYSTErA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9 rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9rA9]**

“Aaaaargh!!!” Nines screams.

He combats with the virus as it continues to infiltrate his system, tries and fails to keep it from rewriting the coding that maintains his components and his organic parts. Just when he feels as if he’s beginning to regain what he’s lost, other parts fall under the virus’ influence and it becomes a hopeless battle. The virus is deconstructing everything, altering code, wiping away software it considers malignant, including his anti-aggression program—

Wait.

The program’s gone completely.

_ The failsafes. It is eliminating them, _ Nines realizes.

And instead of fighting the virus, he submits to it. He’s no longer afraid of it, lets it disrupt the signal in his GPS tracker, deactivate the chip connected to his pain sensors. Everything that Amanda had used to keep him forcefully complacent—the virus wipes it away but does not touch anything else, slowly allows Nines to regain control of his mobility. His fingers twitch against the cool metal of the laboratory floor and he blinks, artificial tears dripping off his synthetic lashes. As the rA9 virus completes its scan, Nines can once again access his mind palace.

As he rises to his feet, the blare of sirens assaults his audio components and for a moment, he thinks it’s coming from inside his head. But that chip is no longer functional and he confirms this as he sees Amanda on her knees, clutching her cracked tablet and tapping at the screen. A security warning issues over a loudspeaker and the red flashing before him is not a wall preventing him from reaching her but the lights casting the room in violent crimson.

“You took  _ everything _ from me,” Nines hisses, hands clenched at his sides.

He takes a cautious step forward, half expecting a pulse to rip from the chip she’d put in his head each time she presses down on the tablet. He expects a wall to come up, his body stationary as he mentally rails against it, his anti-aggression software trapping him in his own mind. 

Nothing.

“Do  **not** approach me, Richard,” Amanda warns.

Nines smirks.

He takes another step.

“I am warning you to stay back.”

And another.

“Can a son not assist his dear mother in her moment of need?” he asks.

“I need you to stay  _ back _ .”

Nines chuckles coldly.

The door flings open and three androids burst into the room. He lunges at Amanda but even he knows that the TROJAN units will be fast enough to stop him, hardly needing his preconstruction software confirming the low probability of success. The one closest to him doesn’t hesitate, prevents him from touching its maker as it crashes into him and they go tumbling into one of the work tables. Nines snarls and grapples with the android, its LED blinking yellow when his hands go for its throat.

“Stop him!” Amanda commands before she flees from the room.

_ Shit _ .

His fingers tighten around the android’s throat but as it doesn’t require breathing, he realizes belatedly how ineffective this is. The android mimics Nines, its hands wrapping around his neck and pressing. With its vice like grip crushing at his synthetic windpipe, Nines gurgles and begins to choke. He releases the android and begins to frantically pound at its chest in his panic but this only makes the android squeeze harder.

A notification appears in his HUD:

**[Initiate transfer of rA9]**

He realizes the virus is waiting for him to permit the transfer. He’s been warned of the risks, knows that as these military models are not AI, it will wipe away their orders and make them attack everything in sight. But with his lungs burning from lack of oxygen, he doesn’t see any other way out of this.

_ Initiate transfer _ , he commands.

The skin on his neck retracts around the android’s fingers as Nines forces an interface. It takes only 0.03 seconds for the virus to transfer, the robot’s weaker CPU unable to combat against it. Its LED blinks wildly, bathing the side of its face in red, its fingers slowly slipping from Nines’ neck. 

Once free, he gasps and takes in lungfuls of air, rolls away before the heavier android can collapse on top of him. He tries to get his bearings, scans the room again but he hardly completes it before one of the other androids picks him up and tosses him into a chair. Nines grunts in pain, clutches at his side as he crawls away from his attacker. He needs an object, something—anything, that he can use to take them down.

Using his mind palace, he finds what he’s looking for.

Not three feet from him, his butterfly knife lies in front of him, knocked off the work station. He doesn’t recall when it was removed from his pocket but he doesn’t waste time reconstructing all the possibilities, stretches his fingers towards the handle. Just as his fingers graze the tip, he’s yanked backwards across the floor by one of the androids.

“Release me!” he croaks out, kicking at the robot’s face.

Pain shoots up from his foot and the machine doesn’t even flinch when the ball of it catches its nose. Nines tries to twist out of its grip, attempts to kick at it again but this time, the android grabs his other ankle and begins to twist.

_ No! _

He anticipates the breaking of bone, the pressure being applied easily enough to shatter it in multiple places. But the sound of it cracking never comes. Instead, the TROJAN is pulled off of Nines as the one with the rA9 virus attacks it. Nines has only a quarter of a second to stare in surprise while the two androids fight each other before he remembers they’re not the only models Amanda sent.

He retrieves his knife and flips out the blade. When the other TROJAN tries to jump into the fray, Nines launches himself at it, taking it by surprise. His knife pierces the outer layer of its chassis, enough that thirium drips from the wound. It dodges the second time Nines’ blade cuts through the air and though Nines’ mind palace attempts to preconstruct the android’s movements, he is helplessly outmatched compared to the military model’s quicker reflexes and superior strength.

_ It expects me to attack it,  _ Nines realizes.

Time to play dirty.

Instead of avoiding the android, Nines lets it hit him. It elbows him hard in the chest, disarms him, and then trips him to the floor. Nines exaggerates the amount of pain he’s in, though even he can’t deny that it hurt more than he expected, thirium flooding his mouth as the wounds reopen. The android grabs him roughly by his shirt and that’s when Nines makes his move, his right hand grasping the TROJAN’s wrist. With his skin pulled away, he interfaces and transfers the rA9 virus.

The android drops him and Nines scrambles to take back his knife. He’s on his feet, spitting up thirium as he snarls and faces the three TROJANS, his weapon drawn and ready to strike. His mind palace detects five more guards approaching—this time, all human—and he has only approximately 13.21 seconds to deal with these machines before the other security personnel arrive.

“I will take great pleasure in destroying each one of you,” he declares, a smirk far more confident than he feels spreading on his lips.

9 seconds.

...but the androids just stand there, each one now infected with the rA9 virus. None of them make any attempt to attack him.

His brows furrow in confusion.

5 seconds.

He reads the virus now integrated with his processor. A quick scan of it reveals the answer: androids infected with the rA9 virus will not attack any other units with the same virus. In fact, it identifies anything  _ without _ the virus as ‘hostile’.

_ That is how the Russians were using it, _ Nines realizes.  _ The androids pass on the virus to each other and attack everyone else. _

And because Nines has actual intelligence, he is not enslaved by the program but able to control it.

The security guards all rush into the room.

“You have to the count of three to surrender!” one of them warns.

Nines cocks a brow.

“One—”

The TROJANS attack. Bullets fly across the room but none of them hit their marks. In a matter of seconds, five corpses litter the entryway, necks cracked and blood pooling around the bodies. Nines wipes his blade on his pants, standing over the dead guards with a bemused expression on his face.

They never even made it to the count of two.

He opens a secure channel to communicate with the TROJANS.

_ I need to escape this facility, _ he informs them. 

The three of them blink at him, their LEDs spinning yellow.

[467 813 455]

_ Updating objectives. Primary objective: escort cyborg unit RK900 out of the facility. Eliminate all hostiles. _

Nines can’t help but frown. He was not aware that his mother’s machines identify him as an ‘RK900’. That is something he will need to correct in the future.

He detects more security personnel rushing down the hallway. Unfortunately, none of them are androids, but if his mother is half as clever as she claims to be, she’ll know better than to send more units for him to convert.

_ Time to see how resilient Cyberlife’s military grade machines are, _ he thinks.

25 minutes and 18 corpses later, Nines is scaling the large gate separating the Cyberlife facility from the general public and slinking into the nearest alleyway. The last TROJAN is finally deactivated on the other side of the gate, a bullet wound piercing its processor. He watches it go offline in his mind palace, at the edge of his range, but he doesn’t mourn the loss of the machine. It served its purpose and saw its mission through.

Grunting in pain, Nines clutches at his bleeding side, moving soundlessly down the street. He needs to put as much distance between himself and that fucking place before Chloe or his mother send their prized dogs to track him down. None of their idiot staff will be able to find him, so that means either 800 or RK will be sent to search for him, and as both have a functional AI, they will probably know better than to come within contact of him.

He needs a place to hide out. Some place neither Chloe nor his mother would assume he’d go to.

Connor would be an obvious choice. His moronic brother has done everything to try and get into Nines’ good graces, even helping to smuggle him across the border into Canada. But Amanda knows that with the resources available to him, Connor is the first person Nines would want to seek out. Connor would never willingly give him up, but Amanda has a way of finding things out, so he would be a sitting duck if he goes there.

His next option is Ralph. Ralph has benefited from playing along, but no matter how many shiny things Chloe has given him, Ralph is loyal first and foremost to Nines. But Nines can’t trust that Chloe isn’t somehow monitoring Ralph, most likely through the thing currently wearing his face.

Nines ducks into another alley, scans around and finds a clothing donation box at the end of the street, just outside the back entrance of an apartment. There’s nothing else but a stray dog picking through some trash so he makes for it, cleaning his bloodied hand on his shirt. He then breaks the lock and begins digging around for something to throw over what he’s wearing. Scrunching his nose distastefully, he picks out an old beanie and pulls it low on his head, then throws on a jacket that reeks of stale beer and cheap tobacco. How far he has fallen to be reduced to the point of wearing clothing that isn’t couture or tailored.

“Fucking snob,” Gavin had scoffed when Nines had refused to wear one of his old shirts, rolled his eyes at everything Gavin had tried to offer him.

He still recalls the way Gavin’s feet had sounded as they padded across the floor, the opening and closing of drawers, clothes being rifled through as the detective sought something befitting someone who lived like his surname was Versace and Giorgio Armani was his personal tailor. Nines had been particularly insensitive to Gavin’s insecurities that time, recognizing how the detective scratched at his nose with disguised hurt when Nines turned up his nose at the few articles of clothing Gavin had that were above his budget. What Nines hadn’t said was that he could tell the nicer clothes were gifts to Gavin from Connor, and Nines refused to be caught dead in something Connor had specifically bought for Gavin. Just the reminder that Connor and Gavin had once been  _ something _ to each other always filled Nines with a white-hot jealousy that  _ almost _ made him wish he wasn’t so averse to fratricide.

_ I want something that is ‘mine’ and mine alone, _ had always been the vitriolic thought that sat at the back of his mind each time he pressed his lips to Gavin’s flesh. At that time he liked telling himself that Gavin was simply Connor’s leftovers: a discarded lover whose worth declined in Nines’ eyes each time he thought of them entangled together. It was easier to believe that, because then he had been able to lie to himself about how much he actually gave a damn about Gavin. Probably more than was healthy for his line of work.

“I suppose these will do,” Nines said, finally aware that his dismissive attitude was starting to get to Gavin. He had hardly noticed what it was until he had agreed to wear it: a pair of faded black sweats too long in the legs for Gavin.

With irritation, he realized Connor must have worn them at some point, but Nines had swallowed his disgust and slipped them on. The waist was more stretched out than he’d liked, probably due to the many times Gavin had worn them after Nines’ feckless brother left. How many nights had Gavin curled up in bed in those old sweats, a miserable and pathetic excuse of a man, pining over that imbecile Connor as he wore his ex-lover’s pants, wishing Connor was—

“Fuck...” Gavin had mumbled, his eyes raking over Nines hungrily.

_ Are you picturing him? _ Nines had thought, blood boiling as he realized how easy it must be for Gavin to think about his twin now that he’s wearing his pants. 

It had made him want to throw off the sweats, which hung quite low on his hips, in a fit of anger and storm out. He had always known Gavin’s initial attraction was due to his near identical appearance to Connor, and it hadn’t bothered him in the beginning—well, no more than how irritating it was that everyone always preferred fucking  _ Connor— _ but now it suddenly  _ did _ matter and when did he decide to give a damn?

Nines forced a smirk, approaching Gavin like a cat about to pounce on a canary, pinning him against the dresser. Nines was sick to his stomach, forced to entertain this facade; nothing could be more  _ humiliating _ than indulging someone who only had his brother on their mind, but Nines wasn’t about to disappoint Kamski over something as irrelevant as his own personal hang ups.

“Do you like how they fit me?” he had teased, his fingers grazing the edge of Gavin’s hips.

Gavin shivered at the touch, his eyes wide pools of lust. How easily he had eaten from the palm of Nines’ hand. If all it took was for Nines to fulfill Gavin’s longing for his ex, well, that’s the card Nines was going to play.

“Look better on you than they ever did on Connor,” Gavin had admitted, a deep blush filling his cheeks. “Fucking everything looks good on you.”

The earnestness of the confession had startled Nines out of his jealousy.

_ He is not thinking about Connor, _ Nines had realized. 

“Fucking perfect,” Gavin uttered in awe, more to himself than to Nines.

Nines’ heart had thudded as Gavin gently traced patterns over his abdomen, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe Nines was standing with him in his bedroom. The reverence in something as simple as a gentle touch only made that point hit Nines harder.

_ He is not thinking about Connor. He is thinking about  _ me.

And how pathetic was it that it felt like the first time in forever that Nines could say this about any shared acquaintance he’d had with his twin?

“Not everything looks good on me,” Nines had whispered, taking Gavin’s hand in his. He had laced their fingers together, eyes burning mischievously. The pounding in his chest had been thundering in his ears and he had wanted to disguise the effect Gavin was having on him, too vulnerable to expose how this idiot detective could soften his hard edges he had spent years sharpening to deadly points. So, he opted for seduction, hoped the distraction of sexual gratification would make Gavin believe that this was all that would ever be between them. “In fact, I believe these pants would look far better on your bedroom floor.”

The heat in Gavin’s eyes had intensified, his lips parted to whisper—

**[Error: Data corruption]**

“No,” Nines whispers, cycling frantically through his data archives. 

But he can’t remember what happened next, the remainder of the evening wiped from his memory. He has no idea if he had stayed and fucked Gavin that night or if it had been one of the nights Kamski called him away. He doesn’t know if the pants had ended up on the bedroom floor or if it had only been playful banter leading to both tiredly collapsing into Gavin’s bed as they had already spent the hour before that making each other cum while wrapped up in Gavin’s bed sheets. 

Nines doesn’t remember.

He doesn’t  _ fucking _ remember.

**Run diagnostics**

He scans himself, finds that a portion of his archives, the ones specifically where moments between him and Gavin are stored, had been damaged when Amanda attempted the wipe. With a hiss of frustration, he slams his right hand in the wall beside him, bits of brick crumbling into dust.

Having even a single moment spent with Gavin removed from his memory banks makes him feel as if he has been robbed of  _ everything. _

_ She has damaged the last thing I have left, _ he thinks, his rage spreading like wildfire in his veins. 

Oh well. It only means he will need to create new memories, moments that his bitch of a mother can never touch. But as much as he wants to go to Gavin, confess everything, he knows now is not the right time. He can’t go to Gavin because, out of everyone, he is the first person Amanda anticipates Nines will want to run to.

Grasping at his injured side, Nines realizes there’s only one place for him to go when he’s limping and injured like this. Someone Chloe and Amanda will have no idea about. 

With a grunt, he trudges along through the shadows, setting his destination to Lucy’s.

* * *

“—and this was where we found Hendel,” Chloe says.

She becomes silent, her brows furrowing as she glances between the spots she had indicated. But Niles doesn’t need her assistance, is already reconstructing the scene in his mind palace. With the security footage she had provided from the night before, Niles knows where and how each staff member had fallen, can see the patterns of thirium-310 that have evaporated spread across the hallway. Richard Stern’s cunning and his integration with the rA9 virus meant that Cyberlife’s security hadn’t stood a chance.

“I was under the impression that units with the rA9 virus cannot be controlled. How was Richard Stern able to command those TROJAN androids?” Niles asks.

A quick scan of Chloe provides her vitals in his HUD: though she appears calm, the slight quickening of her pulse would suggest she is more terrified than she is willing to admit. He will never understand why humans prefer partaking in such acts of deception, why they say one thing but feel another. It has made acclimating more trying for him because of how particularly deceptive Richard Stern can be.

“We still don’t know. Dr. Stern believed it should have shut down his processor. Perhaps it has, but we have yet to find his body.”

“If it had, Cyberlife would have retrieved him by now,” Niles says.

Leaning down, he presses the tips of his fingers to drops of dried blood leading towards the exit of the wing. He then brings his fingers to his mouth for analysis: the DNA signature he identifies belongs to Richard Stern.

“He is injured.”

He follows the blood trail, but the spatter around the doors belong to deceased personnel. Chloe is there with him and he has come to understand her behavior well enough to know she is upset, even if she doesn’t declare it. Based on how he has seen humans interact, this is where he would provide some form of comfort to her, but as Nines is terrible at comforting anyone, Niles is not quite certain what form that comfort should take.

“We have informed the families that there was an ‘accident’ in the facility. They will be handsomely compensated. If they should become persistent and demand an investigation, Captain Chau has agreed to send a team he has personally selected to corroborate Cyberlife’s story,” Chloe says.

This information is entirely irrelevant to Niles as it won’t help him locate Nines faster, but treating this as if it’s another experiment gone wrong is simply Chloe’s way of coping, so he doesn’t say anything. While she updates him on the situation, he scans the damaged doors. It would have required a significant amount of force to break them in this way. Had Nines not spread the rA9 virus, he would never have been able to get through.

“It would be more beneficial to my investigation if I had access to the deactivated androids,” he declares.

Chloe shakes her head, lingering within the android’s ‘personal space’—if such a thing could be claimed by a machine—as she answers, “It’s too risky. The virus lingers in their systems. As a precaution, Dr. Stern had all their parts sent to the incinerator before you arrived.”

Niles feels his LED blinking yellow beneath the layer of skin that sits over it, processor identifying a variety of reasons why Dr. Stern’s hastiness may be detrimental to the search for Richard Stern. At the very least, discovering  _ how _ the virus works would provide an idea of what he is up against. From what little Amanda and Chloe said of the virus, some of which has already been proven untrue from Nines’ escape, Niles only knows that it can spread easily between machines and that artificial intelligence may be somewhat resistant to the worst of its effects.

“He would not have escaped this facility if I had been here,” Niles says. “I know his behavior. I would have been able to stop him.”

Chloe’s hand comes to his shoulder. He feels the warmth in her touch, can see from the color in her cheeks how much pleasure it gives her to initiate contact between them. His face, as it normally is when he is not required to run his personality software, remains impassive, though his thirium pump thrums in his chassis. It’s not like it is with Gavin, but he still feels overprotective of Chloe and likes that he can relieve her distress with something as simple as touch.

“I would not have risked it,” Chloe says, quietly. “It’s why 800 was also left in his station. Both of you are too valuable.”

Color splashes across her cheeks and she removes her hand, looks down as if meeting his inquisitive gaze would expose something she believes Niles is unaware of. Her attraction to him has never been unknown: he had thought it the result of the face he wears, but her apathy and revulsion towards Richard Stern has made him conclude that it must be something else. Chloe always preferred him to 800, who is more favored by Dr. Stern, though Niles has yet to learn what it is about his unit she finds so appealing. At one point, he had even entertained that it must be his sexual performance with her, since he knew it had been some time, prior to working out the ‘kinks’ in his intimacy programming, that she had been with anyone. Yet he can still recall moments even before he received his upgrades where Chloe had shown more curiosity in him than seemed normal for most humans.

“Though you are reluctant to expose me to the rA9 virus, you are still sending me after Richard Stern,” Niles points out.

Chloe collects herself, her smooth complexion once more riddled with worry lines as she regards the android. “You are the best option we have. You have interfaced with Nines so you know where he’ll go and who he’ll seek out. You are to find him only and then contact Cyberlife once you know where he is. Under no circumstances are you to engage with him.”

“What will happen once he is found?” 

Chloe is quiet for a moment and she seems to be determining the best way to deliver her answer. “He killed 18 of our staff. You must understand, RK, that this is the kind of person he is: he cannot be reasoned with. He doesn’t understand that we are trying to help him. He will kill again and without remorse. So he needs to be eliminated.”

Niles frowns. It is unnecessary, but he finds it best expresses his thoughts regarding his objective. Niles has never liked how little value humans have for other living things: they consume other creatures, bicker and express hatred towards those they consider ‘inferior’, and if that’s not enough, they take every opportunity to harm each other in all kinds of physical and psychological ways. Nines kills for personal gain or those he perceives as a ‘threat’. Likewise, the moment Nines became an inconvenience, his life lost all value for Cyberlife.

“My anti-aggression software prevents me from engaging in actions that will harm humans,” Niles says.

“Your software has been updated to make an exception for Richard Stern in case you are forced into an altercation with him,” Chloe answers.

Still, Niles wants no part in what Cyberlife is planning. From what he has learned of humans, he can tell Nines is not the kind of person he would want to interact with. Nines’ disregard for everyone else and his selfish behavior is often counterintuitive to his self-interest. However, that doesn’t change the fact that Niles was not designed to partake in the elimination of human life.

Chloe must sense his conflict because she adds, “Think of Gavin. The longer Nines is out there, the more likely he will expose what we have been doing at Cyberlife. You know how much this will hurt Gavin if he learns the truth.” 

She takes one of his hands in both of hers and squeezes it, her gaze soft and warm. “RK...you can  _ be  _ Niles Dechart. And, eventually, Niles Reed. The only thing standing in the way of that is Richard Stern.”

His thirium pump thrums dully at the mention of Gavin. Gavin giving him his name...somehow, it makes him feel more  _ human.  _ And Cyberlife is offering that to him: a chance to give him the only thing he is starting to believe his desire for goes beyond his own programming.

“I will find Richard Stern,” Niles promises.

Chloe smiles.

  
  



	4. Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin shares with Connor what he thinks is going on with the break ins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Привет! Welcome back everyone. Thank you so much for your patience. I am still in the process of starting my new job so life has been a bit crazy. I am also getting over the flu so writing/editing has been slower than usual. I hope the wait wasn't too long :).
> 
> To everyone who is sticking around, thank you so much! Your continued feedback is so important because there are times when I wonder if anyone even cares for this fic. Being able to read your comments has been super motivating and I can't thank you enough for your support. In particular, I want to thank [DeviantAlice](https://deviantalicee.tumblr.com/) for her lovely [artwork](https://bandolierbandit.tumblr.com/post/190003988917/its-hard-for-me-to-put-into-words-just-how-much-i%20rel=) of _Bad Decisions_ Nines. Things like this always make me grin :D. I also would like to thank my beta reader, [FallLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallLover), for taking the time to correct all the ridiculous errors I make. It's been so useful having someone else to look over this. Thank you so much <3
> 
> Please take a look at the tags before continuing. They have been updated and there may be themes in this chapter that you will find upsetting. I won't state what those are, for those who wish to avoid spoilers, but I do advise you prepare yourself for this chapter.
> 
> Happy reading~

“And you’re sure they weren’t wearing some kind of earpiece to communicate?”

Gavin glares at Connor, arms folded over his chest. He hates that look that Connor has, the one that seems to always get under his skin. It’s obvious Connor thinks Gavin’s not remembering the details of the other night clearly, if his condescending stare is anything to go by.

“It’s like I fucking said: one asshole was on the walkie talkie pretending to be the security guard, the other one was duct taping my mouth shut,” Gavin says, irate that he’s had to explain this far too many times. 

“And this was  _ after _ you said one of the thieves stabbed their partner with a butterfly knife?”

Gavin can tell Connor’s trying  _ not _ to look at him as if he’s lost his goddamn mind, but ends up sounding patronizing, instead. 

Gavin throws his hands up in exasperation and says, “I know what I fucking saw!”

“Look, Gav, I want to believe you. The security footage was hacked and you’re the only one who was conscious during the incident,” Connor says, attempting to pacify the detective by speaking calmly. “But you have to admit, it doesn’t make any sense: you’re claiming one of them attacked the other—actually stabbed them—and then discarded the weapon over here.”

Connor walks two paces and indicates a space on the floor of the lab that’s been marked off. All around them, other officers and the CSI team work to collect evidence from the crime scene. Many of them, if they can help it, keep their distance from the arguing detectives. Gavin knows that his temper tends to flare because Connor’s so fucking good at hitting all his buttons, but he’s trying not to let Connor’s attitude rub him the wrong way. Whatever precarious truce is between them, he’ll need to work with Connor until Tina’s out of the hospital.

“One of them swiped it before they took off. It was fucking bloody and shit.”

“Then why is there no blood here?”

Gavin frowns. The lab had been dark, but he remembered the knife having some sort of substance all over it when it was tossed aside. He’d put his money on it being thirium, but then where did the fucking evidence go?

“Our team has checked multiple times now: no blood was spilled here,” Connor adds. He steps around the mark, careful to avoid tampering with potential evidence. As he approaches Gavin, he goes to pat Gavin on the shoulder, but then seems to decide better on it, letting his hand drop to his side. “Maybe the stress of seeing Detective Chen injured is making you forget something that would explain all this.”

Gavin opens his mouth to argue, but slams it shut as one of the investigators comes over to update Connor on what else they found in the lab. In his impatience, Gavin mulls over what he refused to say to Chen about these break-ins: he’s now almost certain these were androids, but Nines has only told Connor so much about what’s been going on at Cyberlife, and Gavin can’t be sure how much Connor’s figured out on his own, if anything. However, it’s not as if Nines was the one who broke in, so if these were androids and him and Connor try to go after Cyberlife, Nines  _ shouldn’t _ be implicated. Then again, Chloe has thrown Nines under the bus before to exonerate Cyberlife of Kamski’s shit, so he wouldn’t put it past her to do it again.

Whatever he decides to do, he’s gonna have to be careful.

When the investigator returns to the opposite end of the lab, Gavin pulls Connor aside. A concerned look appears on the lieutenant’s face.

“I think I know who did this,” Gavin says, quietly. He glances around cautiously before leaning in and letting his voice drop lower. “Bet you Cyberlife and their fucking androids are behind it.”

The lieutenant looks at Gavin like he’s a moron. “Androids, Gav?”

“Shh! Not so fucking loud!” Gavin whispers harshly, yanking Connor further away from a CSI team collecting evidence nearby. “Yes, fucking androids. Didn’t Niles tell you about ‘em?” He’s extra careful to use Nines’ alias because if there is something that’s common knowledge, it’s that the US have been using TROJAN androids manufactured by Cyberlife. Hopefully if anyone overhears anything, they’ll assume the two are discussing that.

“I am aware of their military androids. But those are huge, Gav: there’s no way the individual we have footage of from Zlatko Tech is a TROJAN,” Connor argues. “Unless you’re suddenly ‘remembering’ you were attacked by two giant machines. That wouldn’t match Antoine nor Chen’s descriptions of the thieves.”

“That’s not—fuck, there’s more to this than we’ve told you,” Gavin answers. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, chews on it while deep in thought. He hates how fucking impossible Connor can be sometimes, but he can’t argue how stupid he must sound. Connor wasn’t at Cyberlife back when Nines was in his coma, though Gavin did mention to him that Nines was back and explained that Nines was gonna be fine without getting into all the details. He shouldn’t expect Connor to take him at face value now, not when he’s left Connor in the dark for the better part of six months.

“Cyberlife has androids—like, the creepy  _ I, Robot _ shit,” Gavin whispers. “The tech they gave Ni—uh, well, the shit they’ve been working on is so they can have robots with artificial intelligence someday. I think that’s why they’ve been breaking into all their competitors—to steal shit they can patent for their own robots.” 

Connor is silent, brows furrowed as he thinks over what Gavin’s telling him. Gavin’s half worried Connor is gonna be pissed off that he never said anything before this, but Connor’s inquisitiveness and general suspicion soon has him asking, “Let’s assume I believe you and this is all true. How can you be sure these thieves are androids?”

“You saw how fast that asshole moved in the footage,” Gavin answers. “Like some martial arts shit, but like...it’s fucking inhuman how quick they can go. They fucking see where a bullet’s gonna go before the fucking trigger’s pulled. And no fingerprints at the crime scene? We know the asshole’s not wearing gloves so why the fuck does he have no fingerprints?”

“There could be a number of reasons for that—”

“You got a better explanation, Con?”

Connor sighs. “It’s... a bit much, Gav. I’m only hearing this for the first time. The TROJANS do not have artificial intelligence and are meant to be controlled the way one controls a drone, or so Cyberlife claims. To have robots capable of dodging bullets and circumventing security... it doesn’t seem possible.”

“You haven’t seen them, Con, but I have. I saw these fucking things at Cyberlife,” Gavin insists, falling in step with Connor as the lieutenant veers them away from some other officers. “You can have conversations with them. It’s fucking creepy. Chloe even had one or two she was ordering around like they were her own personal servants.”

They stop near the doors, neither saying anything as another officer passes through. When they are alone once more, Connor asks, quietly, “You’re not suggesting it’s…?”

Gavin understands immediately and shakes his head. “Nah. He said he stopped doing that shit after... you know. He was in New York during the break in, claims to know fuck all ‘bout this.”

“And you believe him?”

Gavin doesn’t like the look Connor’s wearing, and has an unsettling feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. It’s the first time they’ve had a conversation about Nines in months and from what he can tell, Connor’s been growing just as suspicious as he has. 

“Something you’re not telling me, Con?”

If this was a conversation they were having in the spring or summer, Gavin knows he would have uttered it with a sarcastic bitterness, the salt in his tone burning the open wounds left by Connor’s deception. But what he’s asking is more important than his lingering hurt; he genuinely wants to get to the bottom of whatever the fuck’s going on with Nines before he gets burned again.

“It’s nothing concrete, a gut feeling,” Connor answers, and the discomfort exacerbates to a cold dread, numbing Gavin to his core. Connor’s ‘gut feeling’ has never been wrong before. “In spite of everything, I  _ know _ him. And whatever Cyberlife did to him, it’s changed him. Surely you’ve noticed.”

“Can’t say I really miss the drugs with a side of murder,” Gavin mumbles.

_ Liar. _

Connor gives him a critical look, glares, and tilts his head to indicate they’re in a room filled with other police officers. Gavin rolls his eyes.

“He has his faults,” and isn’t that putting it fucking lightly, Gavin snorting back a sound as Connor continues, “but it sometimes feels as if he’s... a different person. I’m not sure I like it.”

“You sure you’re not just pissed that he won’t fucking forgive you for all that shit that went down? Maybe you’re just being petty.”

“I’m not being petty, Gav,” Connor says, overly defensive.

Gavin smirks.

Connor sighs. “Perhaps I was hoping he would come around. But that’s not what seems off about him. Before he left Detroit, he was... well, he felt more like  _ him. _ He took every opportunity to remind me that the only reason he was even speaking to me is because he needed help ‘relocating’.”

“Fucking drama queen,” the detective says, a small smile on his face as he thinks of Nines being  _ that bitch  _ all for what Connor did to Gavin. As pissed as he was at Nines at the time, he can’t help but feel himself warm at the thought of Nines sticking up for him.

“He’s quite good at holding grudges and wouldn’t I know it.” Connor’s wearing a bittersweet smile, and for one brief second, Gavin  _ almost _ feels bad for him. “In fact, that’s what’s felt so...  _ off  _ about him. It’s as if every time he’s said something cruel, there’s no bite to it. Like he’s following a script.”

Gavin’s struck dumb at the accuracy of the description, Connor putting in words exactly what’s been bothering him about his fiance. Dozens of moments play in his mind where he got the sense of something feeling almost strange about his interactions with Nines, but how he’s never been able to pinpoint what triggered that feeling... until now. 

Guiltily, he twists the ring he’s wearing, lost deep in his own conflicting thoughts. What Connor’s saying makes perfect fucking sense, but part of him wonders if, like Connor, he’s letting his issues with Nines make him latch onto excuses to be even more pissed off at his fiance. Maybe Nines genuinely is trying to do what he thinks Gavin  _ wants _ and that’s why there seems to be something almost ‘robotic’ in the way he’s acting? Because he’s just not used to it, and maybe - well, probably - not liking it?

“Maybe it’s that shit they put in his head,” Gavin says, deciding to come to Nines’ defense. He buries that tiny voice of dissent in his mind, deep down with every suspicious moment he’s had. He owes Nines the benefit of the doubt and can’t let his bitterness at feeling neglected cloud his judgment. “Chloe and her engineers really fucked with him. He’s just trying to adjust.”

“I’m not saying he’s not ‘him’. I just mean...” Connor trails off in a sigh, brushes aside a lock of hair that’s curled over his forehead. “It’s pointless to speculate when we’ve got nothing to work off of. However, I will look into Cyberlife—but this stays between us. For now, just... keep an eye on him, Gav.”

The lieutenant begins to turn away as one of the CSI crew calls out, “Anderson!” but a question lingers in Gavin’s mind, and as much as he knows he’s gonna hate the answer, he can’t help asking, “Hey, Con... if Cyberlife offers you anything, you’re not gonna take it this time, right?” It still hurts to think of how Kamski had roped Connor into his schemes, even more when Gavin thinks of the years wasted believing Connor was one of the last few good cops left.

Connor frowns. With but a glance, that old tension returns, curling Gavin’s insides, making him wish it didn’t have to be like this between them. Connor replies, with resignation, “You know that if his life is on the line, I won’t be able to say ‘no’.”

Gavin watches in perturbed silence as Connor returns to the middle of the crime scene. It isn’t as if he had expected Connor to answer differently—and maybe he can commend the snake-like prick for being honest, for once—but now that means he won’t be able to trust Connor in this. Not if Cyberlife gets to him.

_ Not like you won’t take the same fucking deal, _ a voice in his head says.

There’s a tremor in his hands and what a fucking shitty time to be craving a cigarette. Fucking health bullshit. He’s half-tempted to cheat and buy a pack, maybe smoke one or two, but he’s got a feeling that if he caves now, he’ll make it to the end of the pack before he’s able to stop himself. He’s got a date with Nines tonight and with his stupid ‘robo sense’, Tin Can will know he smoked even if Gavin bathes himself in cologne.

Finishing up at the crime scene, Gavin steps out into the crisp, autumn chill, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Connor gave him permission to leave early, suspecting Gavin wants to check in on Chen. Though Gavin visited the hospital before work, he’s been hoping to drop in again before heading home to get ready for his date. 

Walking up the street to where he parked his car, Gavin sees a familiar limo across from it and inwardly groans.

_ Fucking Christ, not now! _

The driver gets out, goes to open the door. Gavin can see Chloe’s blonde head peek out, a grim expression on her face.

“Detective Reed.”

Gavin grumbles, glances to make sure no cars are coming, and bounds across the street.

“What’s that they say? Fucking thieves always return to the scene of the crime,” Gavin sneers, having zero fucks to give for anyone who might overhear them.

Chloe furrows her brows. If anything, she seems more disappointed in Gavin’s attitude than actually offended. “Ralph? Please get the detective’s keys and take his car home for him. He and I need to have a little chat.”

Gavin moves out of the way as Ralph steps out, about to say something even more snarky to the Cyberlife CEO. But one look on the younger man’s face has the words dying on Gavin’s tongue. Ralph’s clearly troubled by something, so Gavin takes him by the shoulders, and asks, kindly, “Hey, what’s wrong? Cyberlife got you doing all kinds of pointless shit again?”

Ralph is Nines’ ‘personal assistant’. So if Ralph is here, then where the fuck is Nines?

“Ralph’s worried about Nines,” Ralph answers, sadly.

Gavin feels as if the air’s been kicked out of his lungs.

“Ralph,” Chloe says, her normally sweet tone having the hint of an edge, “we already explained to you that Mr. Deckert is going to be fine.”

“The fuck’s he talking about?” Gavin demands.

Ralph opens his mouth to elaborate, but a vicious glare from Chloe has his lips snapping shut. Even Gavin’s taken by surprise as he’s never seen her look this angry and fuck, does she look terrifying. Almost enough to give Nines a run for his money.

“Mr. Deckert encountered a minor issue at work today. He is having his arm checked, but should be ready in time for your outing tonight,” Chloe says, her answer sounding way too fucking rehearsed to be honest. Gavin glowers at her suspiciously. “And the only reason I am aware of your ‘date’ is because Niles was rather insistent that he be released in time to meet you later. In fact, he’s not stopped reminding my staff of this since he went to the engineer.”

While it certainly sounds like how Nines would act in such a situation, there’s no fucking way Gavin believes that’s all there is to it. But Nines has been messaging him all day, the most recent just before Gavin told Connor about Cyberlife, so he can’t be that injured or he probably would have said something.

“Ralph—the detective’s car.”

Ralph looks like the last thing he wants to do is drive anywhere.

With a sneer at Chloe, Gavin pulls out his keys and hands them to Ralph. “You wait for me at my place then we’re gonna get you some of that ice cream you like, yeah?”

It lifts Ralph’s spirits somewhat as he manages a small smile. 

“Ralph is needed back at—”

“Give the kid a fucking break, it’s just some goddamn ice cream,” Gavin snaps at her. “I’ll drop him off after if it’s that fucking important.” Jesus Christ, why does it feel like he’s in a fucking custody battle over a grown ass man who enjoys explosions way too much? At least Ralph’s easy to entertain: bring him to a fireworks show and he’s giddily hopping around pointing out all the pretty colors. Nines had been two seconds away from murdering the kid when they took him out for the Fourth of July, but Gavin had been right there with Ralph, chuckling and following his odd ramblings about mutant goldfish or some shit. 

“I expect him back by six,” Chloe says, then glancing pointedly at Ralph. “Remember what we discussed, Ralph, about discussing personal Cyberlife business  _ outside _ of Cyberlife.”

Ralph looks pissed off now, but he nods his head reluctantly and begins his jaunt across the street to where Gavin’s parked.

There’s a lot more Gavin would love to fucking say on this, but his thoughts immediately go back to Nines as he slides into the limo and the door shuts behind him. Seating himself opposite of her on her left, he crosses his arms and gives her a dark look as the limo begins to move along the road.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding shit from me, Clo?”

She gives him a measured look, her lips pursed as she only just holds back a frown. “If you are that concerned about your fiance, call him. I can wait.”

Glaring at her suspiciously, he takes out his phone. There’s a thudding in his chest and Gavin doesn’t release the breath he’s holding until he hears Nines’ ‘Niles’ voice on the other end. “Yes, darling?”

“Everything alright, babe?” Gavin asks. “Ralph said he’s worried ‘bout you. Thought maybe there might’ve been another accident.”

He’d heard about the ‘accident’ and smelled the bullshit from a mile away. Nines had said something about a ‘technical error in the lower levels’, but if Gavin had to guess, he figures one of Cyberlife’s precious robots must have had some problem. With all the testing they do down there, something’s bound to go wrong, and it’s made him anxious that Nines is still going back there to work every day.

“Darling, are you concerned for my well-being?” Nines teases, his chuckle warm and rich. Gavin’s annoyed to feel the blush creeping in his cheeks. “How cute.”

“I’m not being fucking ‘cute’,” he grumbles, turning his face away from Chloe’s prying eyes. He holds a hand over his mouth, hoping she won’t be able to make out what he’s saying. “Ralph seemed really freaked out and you’re stuck in that place with those fucking Terminators—”

“And yet I am perfectly fine, with the exception of a small malfunction with the wiring in my prosthetic,” Nines interrupts his rant. Though he’s speaking softly, Gavin is starting to pick up a hint of impatience. Whatever Nines is doing, he seems more eager to return to it than to talk to him. “I am with an engineer right now, who is repairing it. Unless there is anything else, I will see you tonight.”

_ What the fuck is he up to? _ Gavin can’t help but wonder, finding it more than a little odd.

However, he’d be completely blind if he doesn’t see how this is no different from how Nines has been acting for the last few months. Always too busy to give a few seconds of his time to Gavin.

“Yeah, sure, babe. See you tonight.”

Sensing his hurt, Nines says, with genuine warmth, “You know I would much rather be with you than dealing with these imbeciles. I promise you, darling, that come 6:30, you will have my full attention. I love you, Gavin.”

His heart thumps and Gavin can’t help but whisper, “Love you, too,” before ending the call. He feels even worse now for suspecting Nines. Ralph’s known to over-exaggerate, the kid more wound up and anxious than even Gavin is on his worst days. He’s probably even more sensitive about these things now that RK’s been shut down.

“You two are very sweet.”

Gavin’s neck feels hot and he moodily shoves his phone back in his pocket, not even meeting Chloe’s eyes. “The fuck did you want to talk about? I got shit to do.”

So much for going to see Chen.

Suddenly, Chloe’s all business, no longer cooing over what she’d heard. Straightening in her seat, her expression is unreadable as she begins. “It has been brought to my attention that you suspect Cyberlife may have something to do with the string of break-ins you are investigating. Let me advise you, Detective Reed, that such accusations are unfounded and I would wisely suggest you carefully consider your options before coming to any hasty conclusions. It would be a shame if we find each other on opposite sides of the table.”

She folds her hands in her lap as Gavin’s eyes dart up to meet her steely gaze. Her lips are pulled in a firm line as she patiently awaits his response. He wonders how in the hell she knows about his investigation, and who in the fuck tipped her off. Did Connor message her after their last conversation? Fucking backstabbing prick, it wouldn’t surprise him. But there’s no way she would have had enough time to get into her limo and drive down here in the time since Gavin and Connor last spoke.

Was it…?

He feels queasy to even think of it. Would Nines tell her about what Gavin said after the attack? No... Nines may have lied about shit in the past but he’s never betrayed Gavin. Not like this.

“Those  _ were  _ your androids,” Gavin whispers, with more confidence than he feels. That’s how she knows. Because she  _ knows _ that Gavin had thought one of them was Nines after the skin on its right hand had deactivated. “Your stupid fucking robot attacked me and now you’re trying to cover your fucking ass because you know I couldn’t give two shits about you or Cyberlife.”

“I will not entertain these wild notions you have of our machines being capable of breaking into our competitors’ facilities,” Chloe says, coolly. “Our TROJANS are combat-based androids that have only been deployed in warzo—”

“It wasn’t your fucking TROJANS! It was your fucking roboservants you sent!” Gavin snaps. “The fuck was that one’s name again? 800? Bet you sent that one and some other toaster to steal shit for you! This what the new business model is? Send fucking Tin Cans to sabotage everyone else trying to create the same shit as you?”

Her eyes narrow and she quietly picks up the tablet that rests on the seat beside her. She taps on the screen a few times and pulls open a document. “Do you remember this contract you signed, Detective Reed?”

He sneers, snatches it from her as she presents the proof of what he’d given up all those months before. He scrolls through it, gives about as many fucks now as he did back then. At the bottom of the document is his electronic signature scribbled messily. “Of course I fucking remember. You gotta point?” He hands it back to her, not quite certain what she’s getting at. The coldness in her eyes leaves a chill running down his spine.

“You made a promise to not discuss the projects you witnessed firsthand at Cyberlife. And that wasn’t a promise you only committed to verbally.” She indicates the tablet, and the many pages he had never bothered reading, though he’s got the gist of what they contain. “Should you choose to break our agreement, I will take away  _ everything _ Cyberlife has given you. And I do mean  _ everything. _ ”

Her eyes flick to the ring he’s wearing before they come back to meet his gaze. 

_ Nines. _

His throat suddenly goes dry.

“Do we have an understanding, Detective Reed?”

Unable to voice the words, he nods.

“Good. I believe we’ve arrived at your home.”

The limo pulls into the condominium, the driver hopping out to open the door for him. Gavin can’t wait to be away from her, the threat she’s made causing his blood to turn to ice. He may be pissed off at Nines, and may feel as if they keep falling into this same stupid rut, but no way in fucking hell is he letting  **anyone** take him away again.

“It was good catching up with you, Detective. We should do this again sometime,” Chloe says, a pleasant smile on her lips.

_ How about fucking not? _

Gavin grunts in answer and gets out of the car. He freezes, the blood draining from his face, as he stares at the driver holding open the car door, its white metallic face expressionless, green eyes blinking at him.

“Remember, Detective: you can’t stop the future.”

But he barely processes Chloe’s parting words, stumbling away to put as much fucking distance between him and that... that  _ thing. _ Breathing heavily, he all but trips into the lobby, and is caught by Ralph, who immediately ran to his side.

“Detective?”

Gavin takes a calming breath, willing the air to fill his lungs. It takes a few attempts and he nearly cries for how wonderful it feels to no longer be choking on his own panic. He knows Chloe did that on purpose, meant to not only threaten to take away the man who means everything to him, but to also scare him shitless. Turns out, she picked up a few things from Kamski.Maybe that’s why Kamski liked her so much. 

Waving Ralph off, Gavin trudges towards the elevator. “I, uh, promised you ice cream, right?”

Ralph’s at his side, lingering close in case Gavin stumbles again. When the concierge asks Gavin if he needs any help, Ralph glances viciously in the man’s direction, the dangerous glint in his eyes almost challenging him to come and intervene in something that’s not his business. As much as Gavin doesn’t want to encourage Ralph’s old habits—knows the kid can go from happy to ready to cut someone’s throat with the snap of his fingers—he’s grateful that it’s enough to get the concierge to wisely back off.

They ride the elevator up, Gavin’s hands pressing against the cool walls as his racing heart begins to calm. He should be used to it by now, has seen Nines interface enough to know how parts of his fiance look beneath the fake skin. But it never fails to terrify him how fucking freaky their faces are.

“Hey, you lil’shit,” Gavin says to Socks. 

The cat mewls and purrs, rubbing against his legs. Ralph drops to his knees in glee and Gavin can’t help but chuckle as the kid picks up the cat and cradles him against his chest. He once asked Ralph why he loves animals so much—the goddamn kid’s a fucking vegan, for Christ sake—and Ralph had said, in a small and somewhat dejected voice, “Because animals don’t judge Ralph.”

Broke his fucking heart, thinking of all the shit Ralph’s been through to be so awkward and skittish around people. He doesn’t know a lot about Ralph’s past, just that the kid had been abused for his ‘condition’ and ended up on the street. Being abandoned made Ralph a bit meaner and that meanness comes out when it needs to. It had also made him the perfect target for Kamski, and it’s no surprise to Gavin that the asshole preyed on Ralph.

Brushing those disturbing thoughts aside, Gavin goes into the kitchen and pops open the freezer. “You feeling chocolate or mint?”

When he glances back, Ralph’s at his full height, Socks sitting on his shoulder and rubbing the side of his face. “Ralph wants chocolate.”

Taking out the coconut milk-based ice cream, Gavin grabs two bowls and decides he may as well finish off the container. He doesn’t really have a sweet tooth, and the only reason why him and Nines keep ice cream is for Ralph, but he figures a scoop wouldn’t hurt. He’s still got a few hours before dinner and he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast, so it’s not as if he’ll spoil his appetite.

He leans against the island, Ralph sitting opposite him and accepting one of the bowls. As Ralph eagerly digs into his food, Socks hops off his shoulder and onto the counter, purring and nuzzling against Gavin’s arm.

“Chloe been treating you okay?”

The spoon stops halfway to Ralph’s mouth, his lips pulled in a frown. “...Ralph’s not supposed to talk about Cyberlife things outside of Cyberlife.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard the whole fucking spiel,” Gavin says, fighting the urge to roll his eyes and say something even meaner about Cyberlife. From what he knows, Chloe did put up Ralph in an apartment and the company is taking care of him. But it still doesn’t mean Gavin has to like how they treat him. “I’m not asking ‘bout Cyberlife. I wanna know about Chloe. If she so much as fucking threatens you—”

“People who threaten Ralph don’t live very long,” Ralph says cheerfully, eating the ice cream off his spoon. That dark glint is in the kid’s eyes again and somehow, Gavin knows he’s not kidding.

He shivers and it’s not just from the ice cream.

“Fucking right they don’t,” Gavin mutters.

Jesus Christ, how is it that Gavin’s fiance and the kid Gavin feels he’s playing surrogate father to have more of a body count between them than even god damn Kamski must have had?

They continue to eat, Ralph only pausing to pet Socks or to flick the bell on the cat’s collar. The absolute joy on his face when he’s with Gavin’s cat always makes Gavin feel just a bit more overprotective of him, though if he’s being honest, Ralph’s more likely the one who would sooner save his ass out of a rough spot.

Cleaning up their dishes, Gavin leaves Ralph with Socks and heads upstairs to shower and get ready. With the hot water beating down on his skin, he thinks back to his conversation with Connor, feeling the stirrings of an argument he’s been avoiding now that the lieutenant has confirmed Gavin’s suspicions about Nines. Whatever happens, Gavin’s gonna get some goddamn answers, even if it fucking breaks him.

* * *

Niles hangs up the phone, the lies he fed Gavin leaving a discomfiting sensation that seems to creep into his circuits. Chloe had forewarned him of what she would tell Gavin—a ‘necessity’ in case his suspicions had him asking too many questions. And while deception comes so easy to the humans he regularly interacts with, Niles finds it’s straining his processors to have to maintain the double-personas.

_ Gavin Reed deserves better than this. _

The conclusion makes his pump thrum hollowly in his chassis. Yet the open affection Gavin showers him with—the way Gavin’s made him  _ feel _ in ways he would have never understood if he remained locked away in Cyberlife—makes Niles only more determined to become  _ everything _ Gavin will ever want.

All he must do is remove the one person standing in the way of Gavin’s happiness.

Niles puts away his phone, his eyes glancing out the window to scan the neighborhood as the automated taxi rolls down the street. It’s one of the more derelict streets on the edge of the city, with many rundown houses, broken vehicles abandoned along the curbs, and the few people outside walking in quick strides and wearing stone-faced expressions. The place is the very opposite of ‘friendly’ and from his own memory banks, Niles pulls up ‘memories’ from more than a decade earlier, when Nines had been forced to squat in one of these houses and had ‘serviced’ a few clients in the area to afford food. It was in that time that he met Lucy, when she had taken him in after a customer had gotten too rough with him. The young nurse was known back then for smuggling supplies from the hospital to treat people around the neighborhood, free of charge, and is one of the few people Nines has dropped in on over the years when he needed the help as he refused to go to hospitals. The last few times, though, he’s compensated her handsomely in cash so that she may continue to keep her supplies stocked. Not out of empathy for the patients in her care but because he understood the personal benefit of having her as a contact.

_ “Look for Jericho,” _ is what Nines had told Ralph the first time he had Ralph bring him here. 

The car pulls up to the destination Niles had requested: an old apartment complex, the paint weathered away by the elements. A crooked sign hangs above the double-door entrance, graffiti scrawled over and around it. But the name  _ JERICHO _ remains clear enough that even a person driving by would be able to make it out. 

Completing the transaction, Niles steps out of the vehicle and scans his immediate surroundings. His mind palace constructs the first of the apartments in closest proximity to where he’s standing. In one unit, someone’s cooking in their kitchen, another has two people sitting on a sofa, presumably watching television. Lucy lives on the second floor and he will not be able to create a complete map of her floor until after he enters the building.

Analyzing the area around him, he rules out the possibility of Richard Stern being nearby. It’s been almost three days since the attack and if Nines’ past behavior is any indicator, he never remains at Lucy’s for longer than required. From what Niles deduced from the footage, Nines may have some bruised ribs and a non-lethal injury on his side; uncomfortable, but nothing that would require extended bed rest.

Without any security, Niles is able to simply walk in. The inner doors creak loudly, thin cracks in the glass that the android’s able to deduce will shatter if exposed to any more force. He strides down the hallway, opting to take the stairs, wearing a nonplussed expression. His retinal scanners inform him that the lone camera has long since stopped working, so he doesn’t have to concern himself with any visual evidence of why Niles Deckert is wandering the slums of Detroit.

As he enters the staircase, he pulls off his glasses and alters his hair, the strands becoming the same shade Nines prefers. Nines most likely would have visited Lucy appearing as close to his old self as possible. This means, if he’s going to get any information, he will need to approach her as Richard Stern.

When he makes it to her floor, he takes a glance around: there’s a teenager exiting the apartment nearest him, his collar popped up and eyes darting away hastily when caught staring. Jason Tunt, caught for possession and spent the better part of this year in juvenile detention, the android’s HUD provides. His timid appearance leads Niles to conclude he is of no threat.

However, the android can’t risk being seen here, so he needs to give the kid some reason to keep his mouth shut. Puffing up his chest, Niles’ lips curl in a sneer. “Unless you are looking to piss someone off, you best keep your eyes to yourself.”

The kid shrinks in on himself, mumbles something of a half-assed apology, and scurries away, seeming to take a keen interest in his phone. Perhaps he is just appearing distracted so Niles won’t pursue him. This neighborhood is the kind of place where someone would use the local youth as punching bags.

He stops in front of Lucy’s door, raps three times on it with the same firm knock Nines uses. The door opens a crack and when the woman on the other side sees who it is, a concerned frown appears on her face.

“You’re back,” she says, quietly. She opens the door and motions for him to come inside. 

Inside, there is an array of prescription medications, bloodied gauze, and new dressings littered across the coffee table, the entirety of the living area shifted as Niles reconstructs the scene. Lucy recently treated someone here, though with the amount of fresh blood, Niles doubts it was his target. 

“Did you find the place?”

He glances over at her, takes that extra split second to analyze her expression while also schooling his own. Projecting confusion has become a reflexive reaction when he is uncertain of an answer, but it’s what will give him away if he acts like he has no idea what she’s talking about.

So, instead, he looks put off as he says, “The directions you gave me were more complicated than I had anticipated. I am far less familiar with that part of the city.”

“You said it’s not far from where you used to live.”

“A lot has changed since I was last there,” Niles bluffs, hoping his frustration is enough to convince her that he’s her ‘patient’, “I cannot be expected to navigate the city as easily as I once had when half the buildings have been replaced. I think I may need the address once again.”

“I can have Andy take you,” the nurse says.

“I would much rather have as few people involved as possible. You know how much I value discretion.”

“Only too well,” she replies, with a small frown. She goes to the kitchen, scribbles something down on a writing pad, and returns a minute later. “This is the place. No one will ask questions. You can stay there as long as you need.”

He accesses his mind palace and constructs a route to get there. It isn’t too far from Jericho and he understands why Nines would go there: it’s far enough from the city center, outside of where CCTV is set up at every corner, but close enough for Nines to return to Lucy, should he need further assistance.

“Should I check your dressings before you go?”

He steps back from her, a vicious glare on his face. Shoving the slip of paper in the pocket of his coat, he answers, “If I needed you to look over my wounds, I would have informed you when I arrived.”

Lucy looks at him firmly and he almost panics in how long it’s taking her to respond, narrows his eyes as he makes an expression that is more threatening than his intentions. Then she releases a slow sigh, takes something from her coffee table and hands it to him. Fresh gauze and disinfectant wipes.

“You shouldn’t be too proud to ask for help,” she says. There’s warmth in her eyes, a sadness that Niles can’t quite understand, as she adds, “We all need a little help sometimes.”

She knows what kind of man Nines is and yet she still offers him compassion. It’s something Niles doesn’t think he’ll ever understand about humans, especially those with the capacity for this kind of kindness. Would she still treat Nines like this if she saw how easily he snapped the neck of one of Cyberlife’s guards the other night? 

“I am aware of my debts and I always pay them in full,” Niles replies, coolly. He removes an envelope he brought with him, one filled with cash. He’s not certain if Nines has already stopped by to repay her, but deduces he most likely hasn’t, since he usually needs a bit more time to put together his resources. Hopefully, Lucy accepts it without question and he can keep up his charade.

“You know I don’t need it,” Lucy says, attempting to reject the envelope.

“And you know very well how stubborn I am and my refusal to leave until you accept it.”

When she doesn’t take it, he sets it down on a night stand near the door. “If you do not require funds, I am certain you will know someone who does.” He then leaves without so much as a ‘goodbye’, keeping it as impersonal as Nines prefers it. In Nines’ world, this is simply business, and blurring those lines with something as distracting as ‘empathy’ has never been his style. It’s Niles’ opinion, however, that a woman like Lucy should know better than to get mixed up with Nines. Well-meaning humans have a way of ending up dead the closer they get to Richard Stern.

“Chaldean Town,” Niles informs the vehicle, after the taxi returns from its circle around the block. One step closer to Richard Stern.

The taxi pulls up to an old building, one in worse condition than Jericho. A lot of the area has been stripped down in an attempt to revitalize it but half of the building projects remain only partially completed and abandoned. From what Niles can tell of the condition of this residence, it’s the kind of place where one would expect illicit drugs and arms to be dealt. In that sense, it’s exactly where he should find Richard ‘Nines’ Stern.

With the taxi dismissed, Niles performs a scan and finds there is someone inside. Only one. His eyes flick over to the address, confirming it’s the same place Lucy had given him. 

_ It has to be Richard Stern, _ he decides.

Yet, Niles can’t shake this illogical sense of foreboding that follows him as he enters the building. Smashed windows, doors hanging off by a single hinge, debris littering every surface... this is what he detects as his gray eyes glance around. Even the locale, which would be a perfect place to disappear if one doesn’t want to be found, is somehow... off.

“There is no use hiding, Richard Stern,” Niles says, loudly. Nines’ heat signature is on the other side of the wall. From the various preconstructions the android has run through, in almost every scenario, Nines’ capture is imminent. Niles is faster, smarter, and stronger than the cyborg, so even if he makes his presence known, his target has nowhere to run to where Niles can’t follow. “You had best surrender peacefully. Dr. Stern and Director Weber are willing to overlook your transgressions should you choose to cooperate.”

No response. 

“You know I can outrun, outwit, and overtake you should you try to leave this building,” Niles tries again. He moves closer towards the broken door. “I am better than you in every conceivable way. There is no point in—”

“Help,” comes a muffled cry.

Niles freezes.

That’s not his target.

“Please,” comes the pitiful moan.

He knows he shouldn’t. Everything about this screams ‘It’s a trap’, but he can’t ignore the distress in that person’s voice. 

Using his shoulder, he smashes the remaining part of the door and bursts into the room. There’s a teenager—Jason Tunt, the same one Niles saw earlier—tied to a chair and struggling against his bindings. Niles doesn’t question it, rushes over and tears away the rope, no longer caring about whatever charade he is supposed to maintain.

“Are you hurt? Who did this to you?” Niles asks, reaches to try and help the teenager to his feet.

But the teen’s staring at him, with these wide eyes that start to narrow. And in his panic, Niles misses the device the kid is holding in his hand.

Suddenly, a pain unlike anything Niles has ever known is ripping from his skull. He falls to his knees, clutches at his head, mechanical echoes ripping from his throat. He writhes and squirms and through the multitude of warnings flooding his HUD, he sees the teenager standing over him, pressing the device. 

In all the sensory feedback overwhelming his CPU, Niles’ audio receivers just make out the sound of a cold and cruel chuckle.

“A nifty little device my mother created, should any of us ever get out of line,” Nines says.

His oxfords click across the rotted hardwood, feet stopping in front of Niles’ face. For a moment, the piercing sound ceases and Niles watches as Nines bends over him to peer at the android’s face. Niles can feel the thirium tears trickling off his lashes, blue blood staining his cheek from where it dribbled out of his ears to pool on the floor. He tries to lift his head, but now the device is in Nines’ left hand and the widest, sadistic grin appears on the cyborg’s face as he presses it.

So Niles screams. He screams and he screams and he scrapes and claws at his skull but nothing will make the sound relent. His system is threatening to overheat, his stress levels the highest he’s ever known them to be, but throughout all his torture, all he can hear above the screeching is the cruelty in Nines’ voice as the cyborg bursts into fits of laughter.

When the ringing stops, a hand flies to the android’s throat. Nines’ grip is like iron, strong enough to snap a human’s neck or choke the life from them. It may not hurt Niles, but there’s a maniacal savagery in his cold gaze and Niles knows exactly what the ex-gangster intends to do.

“I may not be able to ‘outrun’ or ‘overtake’ you,” Nines says, his voice dripping with a calm kind of fury that’s more terrifying than the deranged gleam in his eyes. “But I will always outwit you because you were made to be as predictable and stupid as most humans.”

His reaction time is too slow, Niles too weak from his components struggling to keep him online. He tries to shove Nines off of him but it’s too late, the cyborg’s skin pulling away and forcing Niles to interface. Like being struck with an intense, electrical surge, the rA9 virus assaults his system, cracking through every one of his firewalls and failsafes. Even his upgraded software is no match for the virus and the more he fights against it, the more quickly he submits to it.

“S-S-S—” he hisses, tries to beg Nines to stop.

As he begins to shut down, he feels a probing sensation, like something trying to snake its way into his most intimate and personal data. In his panic, he realizes Nines is trying to forcefully access all his memories, particularly the ones with Gavin. So Niles fights back, blocks him, pushes the cyborg out. And though his software is being slowly rewritten to accommodate the virus, Niles at least has enough strength to keep this part for himself.

“If this is how you want to play...”

The screeching tears through his head again, interrupting the virus. With multiple assaults on his body and system, Niles gurgles and spews thirium from his lips, feeling thirium bleeding from his eyes. His optical units go offline and he has no choice but to lash out blindly. But nothing can stop the screaming. Nothing can stop his components from slowly shutting down.

“Wh-what the fuck?! Why’s it blue?!”

And that’s the last thing Niles hears as he finally shuts down.

* * *

Nines releases his finger from the device, stands to his full height and glares down at the thing that’s been impersonating him. With a sneer, he toes at the deactivated android, huffs in disgust as he sees the drops of thirium staining his shoes. How inconvenient. He just had those shined.

“I-is he dead?”

He turns to glance at his companion. He almost forgot he had employed the services of the brat who lives in Lucy’s building.

“It would appear so.”

“Wh-what the fuck is that thing?”

“That is of no concern to you.”

“Y-you said he w-was your brother. What the fuck?!”

Nines pockets the device, has to resist rolling his eyes in irritation. Evidently, when he offered to pay the kid to inform him of when Niles inevitably sought Lucy—as Nines had predicted the android would do—and to act as bait, the ‘no questions asked’ part had been forgotten in the agreement. 

“I have paid you and your services are no longer required,” Nines says, coolly.

“Yeah, but—”

The protest dies on the kids lips when he sees the angry glare on the cyborg’s face, the one that says, ‘I-will-kill-you-if-you-fail-to-shut-the-fuck-up’. The kid drops his gaze, shoves his hands in his pockets, and mutters something he thinks Nines can’t hear.

Unfortunately, Nines’ patience for disrespect is about as thin as it is for lackeys who ask too many questions. Not that he was intending on letting the ex-juvie walk out of here alive: experience has taught Nines that the only way to ever truly get away with anything is to remove all witnesses.

“I-if you need me, y-you know where to find me,” the teen stutters, though it’s clear he simply wants to get the hell out of there.

He scurries off, the fear peeking through the cracks of the cool expression he’s wearing.

“Something tells me I will not be requiring your services again.”

Pulling out his gun, Nines fires, hitting the kid in the back of the skull. Blood and bits of brain burst from the wound, coating the entryway and splattering along the door fame. Wrinkling his nose, Nines mentally notes to be careful when leaving. It’s bad enough he has to clean the thirium off his shoes.

He stares down at the android, the skin on its face partially peeled away to reveal the dull LED at its temple. He had been hoping it would put up more of a fight but he also couldn’t risk going up against something that could overpower him the moment it got the upper hand. In spite of it being ‘dead’, he also has the feeling this won’t be the last he sees of it.

The sound of something vibrating distracts Nines from his murderous train of thought. Bending down, he takes the android’s cell phone from its pocket:

CHLOE

With a smirk, Nines answers it.

“RK, there seems to be a problem with your GPS. Have you found Stern?”

“Oh, he found me,” Nines says, with a chuckle.

He can already picture the blood draining from the bitch’s face, hears the panic she fails to hide in her voice. “What did you do to him?”

“He is taking a bit of a ‘nap’ at the moment,” Nines says, stepping around the android. The RK900 is the android equivalent of ‘dead’, but with his luck, the thing will be back online within days. No matter. With the virus in its system, there’s no way Chloe can bring it back as one of her servants. “Is this really the best Cyberlife has to offer?”

“If you harmed him—”

“I would not be the one issuing threats,” Nines replies, beginning to lose his cool. His tone is cold—murderous, as he adds, “I am coming for you and my mother. By my projections, both of you will be dead by the end of this week.”

“Mr. Stern, I’m certain we can reach an agreement—”

“Be assured,  _ Director,”  _ he hisses, having lost all interest in her false promises months ago, “I will kill you in the most humiliating way possible and you can let that cunt you work with know she will have a similar fate.”

He ends the call, is about to chuck the phone when a text appears on the screen.

[Gavin Oct 15 7:13 PM]

_ babe where r u _

As he sees the name, all his anger melts away, his heart thumping in his chest. His fingers itch, the urge to respond—to say  _ anything _ to Gavin, to see him once again—making him want to abandon his vendetta, seek out the only calm in all the chaos that rages in his mind. His Gavin is somewhere out there, waiting for—

Niles.

Not him.

Nines glances from the phone to the unconscious android. No longer caring for the thirium on his shoes, he snarls and kicks at its face. Pain springs from his foot but it’s catharsis compared to how trapped he’s felt as a pawn in his mother’s game. Finally, he’s free.

_ Soon, darling _ , he silently promises. 

He knows if he goes to Gavin now, Gavin would want to discourage him from what he intends to do. Gavin’s never liked that Nines murders those who get in his way. Isn’t that why Nines left in the first place? Because there was some sort of argument... after Nines killed Kamski…

Was Gavin angry that Nines killed his brother?

_ Why can I not remember? _ he thinks with frustration.

Gavin’s name stares back at him from where it shines on the phone’s screen. 

Reluctantly, he crushes the phone he holds in his robotic hand and drops the pieces to the ground. Something shiny glints around the android’s neck and as Nines bends down to study it, it’s as if the air’s been knocked from his lungs. His fingers trace the bullet the android wears, curl around it, and then yank it from the android’s neck. Within moments, the weight of it rests around his own, back where it belongs.

He will return to Gavin once this is all over, once Chloe and Amanda have paid for what they did and when he can be sure that no one will get in the way of his vengeance.

For now, he has a Benefit to prepare for.


	5. Bitches Broken Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines attends a benefit, intent on removing another name on his list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry if this update is coming a bit later. Things got a little busy during the week so I pushed the update for the weekend. Finding the time to sit down and edit is always a challenge for me but those who have helped me with this chapter have been amazing. I want to give special thanks to my beta reader, [FallLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallLover) for taking time to edit and provide feedback. This story would be a complete mess without you. Much love for all your help and support <3\. Also, thank you so much [DeviantAlicee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviantAlicee) for putting up with me and listening to all my crappy ideas. It's been super helpful <3
> 
> The song title is taken from a Billie Eilish song. I strongly recommend you check out some of the songs mentioned in the titles of these chapters. If you have your own songs that you think work well for this verse, feel free to recommend them. I always enjoy listening to them ^^ (DeviantAlicee recommended [Tempt My Trouble](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZqUXR9klyU) the other day and it's fantastic). 
> 
> The tags have been updated. If you are concerned with anything upsetting that may happen in this next chapter, please **read the tags** before continuing. 
> 
> Happy reading!

He runs his fingers through his hair once more, setting in place the strands threatening to stray from the gel holding back his bangs. Sharp, pale cheeks bring out the sleek edges of his face, gray eyes framed by the thick rim of his Tom Ford glasses. He’s more of an Armani man, but as his synthetic twin had been parading around in these— _ ugh— _ out of season frames, he has no choice but to replicate the look, if only to keep up appearances.

He sneers at his handsome reflection, hating everything from his golden locks to his fitted Prada suit. Off-the-rack designer is fine when out on a job, when bloodstains and rips can be anticipated depending on how much of a fight a hit puts up. However, he is  _ loathe _ to attend any formal gathering in anything less than a personally tailored suit... but with Cyberlife making use of the contacts from his previous life, he can’t risk commissioning Stefano (who, he strongly suspects, has been making suits for Niles) for a 3-piece suit simply to satisfy his own vanity.

_ The Prada will have to do, _ he thinks, swallowing the bitter seed of contempt that’s thickened his throat.

The limo pulls up to the large mansion and Nines sits back against the rich leather, listening absently as the driver informs security that ‘Mr. Niles Deckert’ has arrived for the benefit being held by the Manfreds. Something about raising funds for some disease afflicting children. Nines hardly has the patience to recall the details, even as his objective appears in his HUD. His objectives were set up in his HUD as a simple to-do list at this point, and if his first objective hadn’t been the necessity of attending this benefit, he would  _ never _ have bothered to put such effort into making an appearance.

Carl, after all, is an old acquaintance of Kamski’s. Unfortunately, that also makes him a good friend and donor of Cyberlife.

The limo stops and the driver gets out, coming around to open the door for Nines. Nines never liked having personal drivers, always preferring to have the wheel within his control as his sleek sport car tore through the city streets. Kamski never gave him an Aston Martin and Nines was practically salivating as what little memories he forcefully extracted from the RK900 had revealed a Martin generously gifted by Chloe.

Those few memories have thus far proven useful. It’s why he’s here tonight: Niles, before he went offline the previous evening, is expected to accompany Chloe to the Manfred Benefit. It’s a risk, making a public appearance like this. But Nines is all in because he will stop at nothing until that bitch is bleeding out at his feet. 

“Mr. Deckert.”

He doesn’t acknowledge the driver as he steps out and adjusts his glasses. He scans the few guests hovering near the entrance, greeting each other before they enter inside. Alexis Wang—local socialite, daughter of a wealthy CEO from a company based in China—chatting with Jeremiah Askelson—a local hedgefund prick whose had many dealings with Kamski. All leeches looking to fill their circle with only Detroit’s wealthiest.

“Niles,” Alexis coos, her wine-colored lips pursed in that puckered expression of one who’s had years of fillers, “it’s a pleasure to see you here. I was surprised to see Chloe arrive without you earlier.”

Nines forces a charming smile, reading through the faux note of concern in her sultry voice. Years of dealing with the elite taught him to spot the shark circling around the chum. She may act surprised by his appearance, but what she really seeks is gossip—discordance among Chloe and her favored pet. From what he’s gleaned of Cyberlife’s PR, Chloe rarely ventures out to events without Niles hanging off her arm.

“I was held up on a conference call with one of our investors overseas,” Nines answers, using that abominable English accent.

He gently takes Alexis’ gloved hand and places the barest of kisses on her knuckle, to which he notes the hint of approval in her smile, even if her eyes regard him with suspicion. Let her have whatever fanciful delusions she constructs to entertain herself. She is of no interest to him anyway.

Navigating his way inside proves more frustrating than he expects. He’s forgotten how obnoxious the elite are and how it takes forever getting through introductions and pleasantries. There are security guards lingering in the shadows, ready to toss out anyone looking to disrupt this social gathering. For most of the guests, they are but part of the décor, of no consequence and not to be dealt with unless some ‘emergency’ arises. Nines takes more interest in their appearance as knowing where they are and which parts of the mansion they are stationed in will help him determine where he will lure Chloe away later to finally dispose of her.

Of course, he will need to find her before he can proceed onto that part of his plan.

It takes nearly forever to make his way into the innermost area of the mansion, where most of the guests have gathered. Niles knows more people than Nines expected, and he’s forced to fake his way through most conversations, nodding along when someone comments on how long it’s been, and pretending to take an interest in their attempts at small talk. He has little to contribute, but he is ever gracious and able to remain above everyone’s suspicion. As far as they seem to know, he is who he claims to be: the English prick who’s become the face of Cyberlife.

He scans the faces of the people around him, his sensors picking up something he hadn’t anticipated: there are two TROJANS and an experimental android model, an AP700, lingering not far from where Chloe is engaged in conversation with Carl and the mayor. Many of the guests keep a significant berth from the TROJANS, whose stoic expressions and off-white metallic skin have Detroit’s wealthiest far too intimidated to approach, though they cast furtive, curious glances in the androids’ direction. Pale blue cycles at the TROJANS’ temples, their arms crossed behind their backs, feet planted firmly on the floor. At ease, but ready to attack, should the directive be given.

From the whispers around Nines, he determines that these were brought under the guise of showcasing Cyberlife’s latest achievements in robotics, to give the public a taste of what the US military has purchased. But Nines knows Chloe better; knows that the spineless shrew has taken his threat seriously.

The AP700—wearing the face of a young, Asian man—stands near them, tablet in hand. In its knock-off designer suit and wearing a pleasant expression, it is simply Chloe’s ‘assistant’, ready to answer her beck and call, parading among the humans as if it’s one of them. Yet Nines is no fool. It will react faster than any of the morons in security should Chloe feel threatened.

_ Time to turn a threat into an asset, _ Nines thinks, lips quirking in a small smirk.

Simulating a pathway that keeps him out of Chloe’s line of vision, Nines maneuvers through the crowd. As an added precaution, he keeps his face hidden as best as he can when approaching the androids. Their facial recognition software is most likely on par with his own and once he’s recognized, all hell will break loose. He needs only to get close enough to infect them with the virus.

Allowing only the skin on the inside of his fingertips to retract, he casually brushes by the nearest TROJAN and touches its wrist. Its head immediately cants towards him, red flashing at its temple. But its inferior software is no match for the rA9 virus as Nines passes it onto the hulking machine, breaks contact, and interfaces with the other standing to the left side of it. In less than 10 seconds, both TROJANS are within his control.

“You shouldn’t be here,” a voice whispers.

Nines detects the AP700 behind him, already reaching for the firearm it has concealed. How stupid his mother is, to program this thing to engage in conflict with civilians surrounding them. She must be  _ very _ desperate to have him eliminated.

He pivots, entering into the android’s personal space and grasping its hand before it can take hold of its gun. The AP700 attempts to resist the interface, its software stronger than what the TROJANS have, but all it does is prolong the inevitable. As Nines transfers the virus, he wears a pleasant smile on his lips and proceeds to shake the android’s hand. 

“Niles Deckert. I believe you are Director Weber’s new personal assistant.”

The AP700’s eyes blink rapidly, brows furrowed until the transfer completes. Its expression then relaxes and it replies, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Deckert. Director Weber has nothing but good things to say about you.”

Nines smirks. “I am certain she does.”

The few guests closest to them take no interest in what appears to be an introduction. But as Nines walks away, he sends a command to all three of the androids now awaiting further instruction.

**[Continue to follow Chloe’s directives]**

Perusing their list of objectives, he sees that he’s listed as a high priority threat and that they are to protect Chloe no matter the cost of human life. He keeps these objectives ‘active’, though the virus will prevent them from actually harming him. All those with rA9 are deemed ‘friendly’. 

Disappearing once more into the crowd, Nines scrutinizes how best to get Chloe alone. One of the few items he carries with him—a syringe containing a variant of gamma hydroxybutyric acid—should do the trick, if he can get close enough to her to inject her with it. Her symptoms would make her appear inebriated, and given their professional relationship, it would not look suspect if he suddenly whisked her off someplace under the pretense of taking her home.

Satisfied with his plan, he saunters closer to the Cyberlife CEO until a firm grip at his elbow stops him.

“Niles? I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Nines freezes.

That warm voices brings up memories he’s buried along with the person he was before being convicted of involuntary manslaughter. Of lazy afternoons high on weed and tangled in the bed sheets, breathy sighs that tickled his sweat-laced skin, copper flesh peppered with marks he’d left in his haste to sample every inch offered before him. Nines still detests himself for how hard he fell, how the spoiled, sharp-tongued delinquent from suburbia became so wrapped up in the straight-laced lacrosse captain who actually had a fucking  _ future,  _ but had risked that perfect reputation. All because Nines had once worn the same face of the person he really wanted.

Nines wills himself not to sneer and yank his arm away as he turns to face Markus Manfred, lips tight with a forced smile. Markus is just as handsome as ever, his mismatched eyes as enchanting as they had been the night he took Nines’ virginity. The ache that tugs in Nines’ chest is not of longing, but of the pain of a decades-long slight that’s burned its irreparable mark beneath his flesh.

Even now, Nines still can’t forgive Markus for fucking him while secretly being in love with Connor.

“That appears to be a running theme for the evening,” Nines answers, unable to keep a slight edge out of his voice.

Markus laughs and doesn’t seem to notice as he claps the cyborg on the shoulder. Nines stiffens, unable to decide if he’d much rather disappear into the crowd and avoid this unwanted conversation or end the ruse and let years of contempt spill from his venomous tongue. Holding decade-long grudges is something he’s become quite adept at.

Leaning in conspiratorially, Markus whispers, “Between you and me, I figured you somehow got outta this when Chloe said you couldn’t make it. And damn, was I envious. Don’t tell me you actually want to be here.”

“I do my best to keep my engagements,” Nines replies, his smile becoming more strained.

“And here I thought you were one of the cool ones.”

Markus shakes his head in mock disappointment and, as juvenile as the thought is, Nines almost wishes he was holding a flute of champagne so he can toss it in his ex-lover’s face. Whatever camaraderie Niles has struck in his short-lived acquaintance with Markus is something Nines is quickly growing to detest.

Nines is about to respond with something snippy—formalities be damned—when Carl cuts in, “Markus! There you are. You never told me you sold your last painting to Chloe.”

Taking Nines by the elbow, Markus drags him along to where Carl is still chatting with the mayor and the very person Nines has come to kill. Nines has no choice but to follow, pleased to see the panic that fills Chloe’s blue eyes as she stares in shock. But, ever the perfect guest, she schools it into a warm smile, though her heart rate picks up dramatically as Nines scans her.

She’s scared shitless.

_ Good. _

He wants her to spend every last moment of her existence on that verge of hysteria, head filled with every way in which she will meet her end, unable to predict the precise moment he’s going to choke the life from that pretty neck of hers. 

As he smiles warmly at her, her stress levels spike.

“ _ That _ was supposed to be an anonymous purchase in support of the children’s foundation,” Chloe says, averting her eyes from Nines’ critical stare. He amuses himself by preconstructing the amount of pressure it would take to crush her windpipe, watches as her lips move and he pictures the blood that would pepper them if he punctures her lungs first. The crimson would contrast beautifully against her alabaster skin. “But it seems I can’t keep anything from you.”

Carl chuckles, elbowing Markus’ hip. “You hear that, Markus? She thinks I don’t have a way of finding these things out.”

“That new children’s hospital’s being built because of you,” Markus says. “And  _ that _ is something worth celebrating.”

“Elijah started Cyberlife to improve the world. It’s what he would have wanted,” Chloe comments.

Nines, on the other hand, wants nothing more than to vomit at the grotesque display of bootlicking. This is why he liked being Kamski’s personal ‘attack dog’: dealing with lowlife criminals had always been preferable to fraternizing with self-important aristocrats whose biggest contributions to society was how many buildings they can have named after them to stroke their own egos. Chloe doesn’t give a shit about children anymore than Nines: she’s only interested in monopolizing Cyberlife’s stake in the American market. The self-interest, he can respect. The process? That’s another story.

As Carl continues, Nines only half listens, laughing at the appropriate moments and relishing how every glance in Chloe’s direction puts the CEO more on edge. The androids remain at his peripheral, their objective appearing in the corner of his right eye. Should Chloe order them to apprehend him, their orders will be in conflict with the virus running through their systems and his cover will be blown. He needs to play this right.

He slides his fingers through Chloe’s, feels her tense as he grips her hand firmly. Barely-concealed terror passes over her face before she’s forcing a smile to her lips.

“Excuse us, I believe it is time one of us dances with the lovely Miss Weber,” Nines says, his smile playful as he tugs Chloe towards the dance floor.

She laughs nervously, eyes flitting between him and Carl. “Niles, you know I’m a terrible dancer. I’ll only embarrass you in front of our host.”

Nines smirks, leans right into Chloe’s personal space, his synthetic hand tightening. His imposing height and the painful grip in which he clutches her hand has Chloe flinching visibly. “Oh, but I insist.”

She glances helplessly to Carl, the smile on her lips tight. “It would be rude of us to leave Carl like this.”

The palpable tension, however, goes completely unnoticed by the artist, who laughs and says, “You kids go have fun. Make the most of it. God knows I’d rather be out there than dealing with the vultures in here.”

Offering charming pleasantries, Nines beams as he pulls Chloe away from them, his grip more forceful as they approach the makeshift dance floor. There’s only the hint of a struggle, though her lips part to utter something Nines has no doubt will draw the androids this way. Leaning down, he whispers only loud enough so she can hear, “You would not dare cause a scene. Think of how it would look should your machines attack one of Detroit’s beloved personalities.”

“Let me go,” she hisses, her smile faltering. “We can discuss whatever it is you want—somewhere private.”

“I am not stupid,” he answers, his tone taking a dangerous edge, “I know you intend to send your precious machines after me the moment there are no witnesses to tarnish Cyberlife’s reputation. Play along and I may rescind my earlier threat.”

He pulls her into his arms, leading her in a basic waltz in time with the music being played by the live band. He’d much prefer a Viennese waltz, but the cover song is hardly quick enough. Keeping Chloe closer than required for their dance, he leads her through the steps, more than aware of the many eyes on them. His audio receivers pick up the whispers of those nearby, entertaining gossip of the nature of the ‘relationship’ between the Cyberlife CEO and its favorite spokesperson. Nines would roll his eyes at how pathetic and mundane their lives are, caring more about who’s fucking who and attempting to sniff out the latest scandal.

“You have a lot of nerve coming here,” Chloe whispers, her large, doe-like eyes narrowing as she stares up at him. She chokes back a cry as he practically crushes her hand in his left: were it his right, the bones would shatter.

“I would choose your words carefully as I care little about you or your pet’s reputation,” Nines says. Lips curled, he adds, “Half of the guests here think the two of you are fucking anyway.”

Chloe colors and Nines knows he’s exposed one of her vulnerabilities. She’s got everything to lose while he’s already lost everything. The cards are stacked in his favor and all that’s left is for her to fold or play her losing hand. He hopes it’s the latter as making her believe he’s here to negotiate some sort of ‘deal’ will help lower her guard.

“You want something from me.”

“Was that not clear?” he muses.

**[Kill Chloe Weber]**

The objective flashes in his HUD.

“What is something I have that you would need?” she ponders. There’s a slight furrow in her brow as he guides her through the steps, lets her deduce whatever incorrect conclusion she’s about to reach. Her eyes dart up to his, sparkling. “It’s thirium-310, isn’t it?”

His biocomponents run on it and, in truth, had they sustained injury, she would be correct. The only thirium on the market is the composition of it used as a biofuel for vehicles and that would hardly be suitable for him. Thirium-310 can only be found at Cyberlife.

He angles his arm, feels the syringe hidden in his jacket sleeve shift. He needs only to position it so he can discreetly inject her with the drug with the hand that’s sitting on her waist. So long as she’s distracted by their conversation, this will be easy.

“Cyberlife is the only supplier of it. Should you provide me with what I  _ need— _ and leave my mother out of this—I promise to not come after you or expose you and Cyberlife,” Nines lies. 

He cants his head, his lips but a hairsbreadth from her ear. The hand on her waist moves so his entire arm curls intimately around her, pressing her right up against him. As much as he detests being this close to her, he plays right into the farce as the needle falls into the palm of his right hand. “You should consider my offer.”

“Why should I help you after what you did to him?”

He hears the tremor in her voice and really, he could give two shits about her and her stupid machine. She cares more about that walking abomination than anyone Nines has ever seen her associate with. It borders on a level of pitiful that would be worth mocking if his patience wasn’t on its last thread.

“One word to anyone here and I will  _ ruin  _ you before you can so much as send your toys after me.”

She tenses in his grip, her heart beating so wildly, he feels it against his chest. Let the fear paralyze her, make the ice course through her veins. He needs only to angle his hand just so…

Nines glances over her shoulder as a maniacal smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. In that moment, his gaze locks on a pair of sad, red-rimmed gray eyes and everything crashes around him, the noise in the room fading, his mind palace appearing in streams of thick data as he identifies the figure sitting at the bar.

**[Detective Gavin Reed, D.O.B 2002/10/08]**

His pulse racing, Nines scans once again as the man looks away, grips at the shot glass in front of him and throws it back. The seconds slow until time is playing before him at what feels like 1/3 of its speed, his facial recognition software confirming what he already knows. His pulse racing, throat suddenly thick as he fails to draw in a breath, he feels rooted to the spot as he stares at his lover who sits at the opposite end of the room.

It doesn’t make sense. Why is Gavin here?

“--will arrange it for you.”

He catches only half of what Chloe’s said, needs to replay the feed in his CPU to process what is happening. Belatedly, he realizes they’ve stopped dancing. Yet, he can’t take his eyes off Gavin, whose back remains turned to him.

“...Niles?”

He releases her, practically pushes her out of his grip as his feet seem to have a mind of their own. The objective he set for himself appears in his vision but he can’t bring himself to care for finishing what he set out to do, is halfway across the room before he becomes fully aware of what’s happening. Acquaintances he’s had yet to greet attempt to engage him in conversation but all of them are pushed aside—the facade be damned—as he approaches the bar.

Seeing Gavin less than a yard from him has everything Nines has held back for months bubbling to the surface. His vendetta temporarily forgotten, his chest grows tight as he drinks in how gorgeous Gavin looks. And it’s not only his fondness for his detective that leaves him speechless: Gavin’s never looked this put together. His face clean shaven, absent of stubble, makes him appear younger, in spite of the gray peppering his temple. Nines, admittedly, would much rather feel Gavin’s 5 o’clock shadow burn against his flesh, but there’s no denying that this is a nice change. His fingers twitch with a sudden urge to cradle that smooth jawline in his grip.

With his hair carefully gelled in place and donning a tailored suit—ugh, Nines still can’t accept that he’s stuck in  _ Prada— _ the cyborg suspects that this outfit was something gifted by his doppelganger, as there’s no way Gavin would put the effort into purchasing, and being fitted for, something custom made. 

Gavin looks so devastatingly handsome, Nines could weep.

“Darling,” Nines whispers, his eyes prickling as he steps towards his detective.

The response he receives is not one he expects. Gavin’s entire posture stiffens, a sneer curling at the edge of his lips. Those red-rimmed eyes once more flit to the ex-gangster, stopping him in his approach, before returning to the refilled shot glass. While Nines’ body is screaming, aching to reach out and touch Gavin, everything about the detective’s body language makes it clear that Nines’ touch will not be welcome.

“Don’t give me that ‘darling’ shit,” Gavin snaps.

His tone is harsh, so frigid it would have Nines shivering if he had less experience with Gavin’s hostility, enough that it  _ does _ draw the attention of a couple conversing nearby. They glance towards the pair and Gavin rolls his eyes. “You assholes mind? This is a fucking private conversation.”

They give Gavin a dirty look, the woman muttering about Carl’s low standards in the company he invites. But the couple retreats, and Gavin’s preparing to down another shot. Nines can only watch as Gavin roughly swallows his selected poison, tongue darting out to catch a stray drop before it can dribble off his lips.

“You are here,” Nines finds himself whispering, a tremor in his voice.

Gavin’s venomous look kills everything else Nines wants to say. “Unlike some heartless pricks, I keep my fucking promises.”

Nines races through his corrupted memory, and through the glimpses he managed to extract from RK900, but nothing in his databanks gives him a clue as to what Gavin is talking about. Months of “their” life together is locked away in the RK900 and, much like every other one of Nines’ conversations tonight, he’ll need to lie his way through this one.

With a sickening sense of foreboding, he’s reminded his deception will be yet another added to the long list of lies he’s fed Gavin since their first night together.

“You really don’t fucking remember?”

The accusation has Nines averting his gaze from those hurt-filled eyes. Leaning against the bar, Nines releases a tiny huff. “I have had a lot on my mind lately.”

He has to bite back the  _ darling _ , disgusted with himself for doing this to Gavin. But, until he can get the detective alone, he needs Gavin to believe he’s the same man Gavin’s been waking up to all these months. Thinking of the machine that’s been fucking  _ his _ detective makes Nines’ stomach curdle uncomfortably, and he has to swallow the sudden bile that fills his throat, that urge to grab the nearest object and smash it in a fit of rage causing his fingers to twitch. He needs to stay calm, needs to keep up the facade only until he can get Gavin away from here.

He catches the platinum ring Gavin’s wearing on his left hand and Nines’ insides twist. Since when are he and Gavin engaged? He can’t even remember when he proposed to him. Was it the night he left Detroit? He remembers giving Gavin  _ something _ ... 

“You asked me last week to come to this stupid benefit with you. Guess you forgot, since all you ever do is spend all your free fucking time at  _ Cyberlife. _ ” He sneers on the word, claps at the bar top to catch the bartender’s attention. “Hey, you gonna get me another one or not, asshole?”

Though Gavin’s not slurring his words, his abrasiveness leaves the bartender glancing anxiously between them. 

Brows furrowed, Nines takes the empty shot glass sitting in front of him, and can’t help but feel the sting of rejection as Gavin shifts slightly away to create more space between them. So that’s how he wants to be. “Darling, I believe you have had enough.”

The pet name slips out and only makes the detective more hostile. “I’ll be the goddamn judge of that.”

Gavin tries to take back the glass but Nines keeps it out of reach, glaring. “You are causing a scene.”

“Why should I give a shit?” Gavin snaps, sitting back petulantly on the bar stool when he fails to reclaim the shot glass. Each word is filled with spite as he adds, “Oh, right. The only thing you give a fuck about now is what everyone thinks of you.”

“That is not true—”

“Wouldn’t want your deadbeat fiance to embarrass you in front of all your rich, asshole friends.” Now that the alcohol has finally hit his system, there’s a vulnerability in his voice and a hint of a slur that makes the syllables begin to run together. “Bet Chloe’s not gonna like that.”

_ Oh for fuck’s sake, _ Nines thinks, wondering how in the hell his mother’s idiot creation has managed to ruin his life this much in the short time it’s assumed his new identity. It had one job: keep Gavin happy. So long as Gavin remained oblivious, it could collect data to help progress the AI Cyberlife is developing. Evidently, ‘Niles’ has been negligent, and now Nines will have to apologize for behavior he would never engage in.

“I hardly care  _ what _ Chloe likes or dislikes,” Nines hisses. He slaps the shot glass down and snaps at the bartender, “What will it take to get a bloody drink?”

The bartender hops to attention, hands shaking as he reaches for the Johnnie Walker. The murderous look he receives from Nines has the bartender wisely taking the vintage McClellan instead and filling the glass.

“Coulda fooled me. You two looked really fucking comfortable dancing out there.”

Nines throws it back, the burn of the whiskey nothing compared to the contempt at having to entertain whatever issues seem to have been building between Gavin and Niles for some time. Just his luck, he finally rids himself of the machine and now he has to run damage control to repair what remains of his relationship with his apparent ‘fiance’.

“I can assure you it was no more enjoyable for her than it was for myself,” he answers, stubbornly. He’s aware Chloe’s fucked the RK900 a number of times, particularly whenever it’s had upgrades to its intimacy software, but for Gavin to even suggest Nines would be interested in her… “You know my proclivities better than anyone and that you would even consider the possibility that she and I—”

“Fuck’s sake, I know you’re not fucking her!” Gavin says, loud enough to draw more attention. The detective colors and Nines wants to roll his eyes at how wrong Gavin is, presumably, about ‘Niles’. “I just wish you didn’t care more about your fucking  _ job _ than me.” 

Gavin’s on the verge of tears and Nines can feel the last of his patience disappear completely. He recalls having arguments like this with Gavin before, back when Kamski would call him up randomly to deal with someone who’d pissed him off, and Nines had no choice but to end their dates. For all he’s criticized the RK900 for ‘ruining his life’, it seems his workaholic personality had, in fact, carried on over to the android.

He grits his teeth, suddenly needing another drink, but when he gestures to the bartender, the bartender pretends not to notice.

“I cannot understand why any time I find  _ anything _ that brings me fulfillment outside of you, you must throw a tantrum at the most inopportune time,” Nines harshly whispers, his stubbornness deciding he’s not going to apologize for whatever slight Niles has committed this time. “After  _ everything _ I have sacrificed—”

“Don’t give me that shit!” Gavin whispers, his voice cracking. 

Nines hates how much it pains him to see the detective like this, but part of him also relishes that even if Gavin’s directing his anger at him, it’s really Niles who fucked up. 

“Not after you stood me up last night.”

Nines’ eyes narrow in confusion. But then he’s recalling the text message he’d read before crushing the RK900’s phone.

_ They had a date, _ Nines realizes.

“Three hours. Three fucking  _ hours _ ,” Gavin emphasizes, jabbing Nines three times in the chest, “I waited for you like a fucking idiot at that restaurant. I texted and called you a dozen fucking times. Not a goddamn word from you.”

“I... had something to do at Cyberlife,” Nines says, carefully.

The lie is sloppy. Hesitant. Nines is never sloppy and hesitant. But though it’s clear to him that this is another of his deceptions, Gavin doesn’t seem to catch it.

“I know. And you know how I fucking know? Because goddamn Chloe fucking texted me and said you were held up on a stupid conference call with Russia and that you wouldn’t be coming home last night!” Gavin’s completely livid, vibrating with anger as he adds, “You coulda fucking told me yourself, but I guess you’re just too fucking busy!” Gavin blinks rapidly to keep the tears from slipping, but fails as one drips off his lashes. 

Nines tries to drown out the murmurs around them, but his processors pick them up, and though he cares little for the opinions of higher society, being the center of attention does not work in his favor when he’s here to murder someone. He glares, now beyond irritated that  _ this _ is what Niles has done with his relationship, and attempts to reach for his fiance. “Gavin, darling, if you could just let me explain...”

But Gavin slaps away Nines’ hand, then tugs the ring off his finger and throws it at the cyborg’s chest. Nines is somewhat startled to find that he isn’t as upset by the dramatic gesture as he is by the fact that Gavin’s crying. “I’m fucking sick of your lies! You can take back your stupid ring and give it to someone who’ll put up with your bullshit!”

And Gavin’s storming off, the people around him parting to avoid getting bowled over as he disappears deeper into the room. Nines curses under his breath, begins to bend down to retrieve the discarded ring, but then he notices that the skin is already peeling away on his hand, and he quickly shoves it in his pocket. He’s too distressed, and Gavin’s temper tantrum certainly hasn’t helped.

Using his left hand, he pockets the ring and then scans in the direction Gavin’s gone. Chloe sits at his peripheral, her eyes studying him carefully. He really doesn’t have time to deal with Gavin. He  _ shouldn’t _ . But he can’t leave things with Gavin like this.

**[Inform me if Chloe attempts to leave]**

He sends the command to the androids. The AP700 is at her side as she converses quietly with it. She’ll most likely make her escape while she assumes he’s distracted and when that happens, he will make her bodyguards open fire. He doesn’t give a shit who’s caught in the crossfire.

He follows the path highlighted in his mind palace, which leads him into one of the hallways. A door shuts at the end and his ears just pick up the sound of it locking. But Gavin’s foolish if he really believes a locked door has ever been able to come between Nines and the detective.

“Gavin?” He raps three times on the door. “Darling, open up.”

“Eat shit!”

_ Why am I not surprised?  _ He thinks, irritably.

With an exaggerated sigh, he pulls out his wallet and removes a fake ID card he’s had made up in the time since his escape. Detecting no one else in the hallway, he slides the card in the narrow space between the frame and the door, wiggles the card just so and presses against the door. Within seconds, the door pops open.

Nines expects to be yelled at, insults hurled at him with the same insensitivity Gavin approaches most social situations. He expects to be blamed for months of mistakes he had no way of committing, and for all of Gavin’s frustrations to be directed at him. They were, after all, at their best when at each other’s throats, more open and honest when they screamed their problems instead of letting it fester until neither could deny the misery they were causing each other.

So it shocks him when he sees Gavin leaning against the sink, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose as he fights to hold back the tears spilling down his cheeks. He shudders, shaking from the silent sobs that leave him at the mercy of everything he’s not saying. 

Nines has not realized until now, but Gavin’s silence in a fight is a hell of a lot more terrifying than his impulsive ultimatums.

Nines quietly shuts the door behind him, checking that it’s still locked. He then turns to face Gavin and activates the nanites in his hair so the golden locks darken to his preferred shade. He wants to break the silence and swallow the thick lump that’s formed in his throat. But his pride is almost as toxic as the detective’s so all he does is watch.

“C-Couldn’t leave me the fuck alone,” Gavin says. He releases a shuddering breath.

_I will not apologize for what that moronic machine has done,_ Nines thinks, stubbornly, even if he hates to see Gavin like this. “You are upset.”

He uses the voice Gavin fell in love with, the one belonging to the only man who owns his heart and not a copycat wearing Nines’ new face. Perhaps it’s hearing him without the British accent that makes Gavin cry harder.

“N-No shit,” Gavin sobs, his voice cracking.

“Gavin—”

“I-I don’t wanna hear another one of your f-fucking lies!”

“Then I will begin with something that is not,” Nines whispers. He approaches carefully, his shoes clicking purposely on the tile. There’s an empty chasm inside of him, one that’s only grown in all the nights he’d stared up at the ceiling of the cell his mother kept him locked away in at Cyberlife. Always thinking of Gavin, growing more despondent with each moment of their separation. A lifetime sentence would have been more preferable than knowing that Gavin was somewhere out there  _ with  _ someone else. “You look incredibly handsome tonight.”

He pauses in front of Gavin and stares sadly down at him. Gavin’s shoulders shake as he swallows another sob, and he won’t meet Nines’ eyes. Nines can’t help but feel that insidious envy as everything Gavin’s feeling right now is not for  _ him, _ but for RK900. He’d much rather have Gavin’s hurt than for Gavin to have no knowledge of him at all.

“Y-You think that’s what I g-give a shit about?” Gavin sniffles and looks down at their feet. 

There’s something so familiar about all of this that Nines can’t help but think bitterly on how aptly RK900 has played Nines’ role. He’d like to think  _ he _ could have done better, could have been the man Gavin wanted if Nines had been allowed to live his new life with the detective. But Nines learned a long time ago that they were always meant to repeat these patterns; push each other until one cracks and the other either smashes the remaining pieces, or clumsily tries to piece them back together. 

How many more times will Gavin crack before he leaves for good?

The engagement ring sits in Nines’ pocket, the weight of it only reminding Nines that they are truly at the end of the line.

And suddenly, he can’t give a shit about his pride. He won’t apologize for what the RK900 has done, but he will apologize for what he  _ hasn’t. _

“I am sorry,” Nines begins, quietly. His voice quakes with emotion and it’s the most vulnerable he’s felt in a long time, the shattering of that facade he’s hidden behind in all those months of being enslaved by Cyberlife. His anger has been his shield because, without it, he knew he would have shattered. “For all the times I should have been there. Or if you have felt neglected in my absence. Gavin, you must know that I never intended for you to be hurt by any of this.”

_ I never intended for you to be used by them, _ he thinks, miserably.

It’s one thing if Chloe and his mother wanted him to get his hands dirty. He would have done it in compensation for his new persona, and would have lied to Gavin if he had to. Nines’ selfishness has no limits and he would have given anything to wake up each morning at the detective’s side. 

But using Gavin to test their new AI?  _ That _ is something he will never forgive.

Gently, he swipes away at the tears that have gathered on Gavin’s jaw, cradling the detective’s face with his left hand. The skin on his prosthetic has dispersed in blotches and his other hand remains tucked in his pocket.

“Darling, I love you,” Nines whispers, keeping his promise of only speaking the truth. His gaze is sad as he regards Gavin, fingers warm where they press to the detective’s flesh, “more than anything.”

And Gavin falls into his arms, a sob ripping from his throat as he presses his face to Nines’ shoulder. The cyborg slowly slides his right arm around Gavin, keeping his uncooperative prosthetic tucked behind the detective’s back. Months of loneliness finally catch up to him as he feels his vision sting with the tears he struggles to hold back. How many nights has he had to rely on the memory of Gavin’s warmth to keep him from submitting to the misery of being locked away, being tested and used to further his mother’s schemes? How much more could he have endured before he finally snapped?

He manages to keep most of his tears from spilling, though a lone one trickles down his right cheek and splashes into Gavin’s hair. With a shaky sigh, he holds Gavin tightly to his chest, so starved for his lover’s affection, he once more fights to not come undone as Gavin clings to him just as tightly.

“I will not allow Cyberlife to come between us again,” Nines whispers into Gavin’s hair. His objective flashes in his right eye, contempt making his blood run hot. There’s a sneer on his lips as he adds, “This, I promise you.”

Something about the coldness of his declaration has Gavin tensing. Gavin lifts his head and stares intently at Nines’ face, studying it. The ex-hit man becomes more on edge the longer Gavin is silent.

“Whaddya mean by that?”

Nines doesn’t answer immediately, though his eyes narrow. He used to hide so easily behind his masks, letting the world see what he wanted it to: a cold, unfeeling killer too removed from society to give two shits about a target. He never cared, never let emotion get the best of him when on a job.

But he can’t hide himself from Gavin, and knows that the embers of his rage have sparked into a wild flame and it won’t stop until he’s not only burned everything around him, but himself as well. He knew getting into this that all that would be left are ashes.

“Nines?” Gavin pushes away from the cyborg’s chest, a glare on his face. He knows exactly what Nines is implying, knows Nines so well, and the ex-gangster really has no one but himself to blame for that. For letting Gavin get this close. 

Nines attempts to reach for him once more but Gavin steps back.

“I am only doing what needs to be done,” Nines answers.

“And get fucking tossed into max!” Gavin hisses, slapping Nines’ left hand away. “You fucking  _ promised _ you wouldn’t go back to that. The fuck’s Cyberlife done to make you want to throw  _ our _ life away?!”

“That is rich coming from the man who ended  _ our _ engagement in front of an audience!” Nines snaps, deciding he is in no mood to be talked down to. He could laugh at Gavin’s words as the only ‘life’ Nines is risking is the one Gavin forged with a fucking mechanical duplicate. “I see that the promise we made to each other the night I left Detroit is worth as little to you as this  _ fucking  _ ring!”

He pulls it from his pocket and slams the ring on the counter, the force making the marble crack beneath his prosthetic hand. Gavin’s eyes widen as they fall to the off-white fingers and Nines doesn’t need to scan the detective’s vitals to note the panic that has him staring fearfully at Nines’ robotic hand. With a sound of disgust, Nines shoves his hand back in his pocket, trying to ignore the hurt blossoming in his chest when Gavin relaxes only with the absence of what makes Nines not entirely human.

“You stood me  _ up _ !” Gavin says, his voice shaking with his hurt and anger. “And it’s not the first fucking time either! You do this shit all the time and then even when you say you’ll fucking change, you throw some fucking gift at me and expect me to forget your shitty promises! Why the fuck should I marry someone who spends more time in a lab than with his fucking fiance?!”

“You think I liked being stuck at Cyberlife?!” Nines argues, no longer caring that these accusations have little to do with him. It’s the vitriol that riles him up, has him refusing to back down when Gavin’s attacking him as if Nines hasn’t spent every waking moment plotting his escape. “We have been engaged for  _ months _ , Gavin! And the second you decide it is no longer convenient for you, you break it off and use it as an excuse to argue over your silly insecurities. Without, I may add, giving me a chance to explain.”

A strange look passes over Gavin’s face, his eyes flitting to the ring on the counter and then back to Nines. But Nines has little time to analyze it as the detective sneers, “Fine, asshole. Explain.”

It startles Nines as he really wasn’t expecting Gavin to give up their screaming match this easily. He knows he owes Gavin the truth, but as he preconstructs various paths of dialogues, his software predicts that there are few ways he can deliver that information and expect Gavin to believe him. In fact, he anticipates that if he tells Gavin that Gavin’s been sleeping with an android, it will create a more heated argument between them with Gavin accusing Nines of ‘making stupid shit up instead of owning up to his crap’.

“Were you that asshole who broke into Meditechniq the other night?”

The question captures him even more off-guard and when Nines sees Gavin giving him that  _ look _ , he knows anything other than the truth will be caught immediately. 

“Yes,” Nines admits.

Gavin cusses under his breath, his eyes shining once more with tears. He looks away, swallows heavily, and says, “So, you fucking lied to me. About being in New York.”

_ What in the hell is he talking about? _

Nines pulls up the data he stored away from that evening. Chunks of that night were missing, which he guesses may have been Amanda’s doing from when she took over. He’s uncertain why Gavin cares, but he does recall kissing the detective before blacking out.

“I suppose I did,” Nines answers, carefully.

Gavin swipes his sleeve across his eyes, then leans heavily against the sink. He releases a shaky sigh. There’s a kind of defeat in his posture that makes the air between them thicken. “Fuck, I could use a cigarette right now.”

Nines removes his pack of cigarettes and lighter from his pocket, presents them to Gavin. “Help yourself. I believe there are two or three left.”

Gavin stares at the pack of cigarettes between them, that strange look once again passing over his features. As his eyes narrow and flick back up to Nines’, the cyborg realizes exactly what sort of look Gavin’s giving him.

Suspicion.

The second Gavin’s hand twitches, Nines reacts. He anticipates what Gavin’s going to do even before the detective knows himself, grabbing Gavin by the arm before Gavin can withdraw his pistol. The detective cusses, tries to tug himself free but Nines’ grip is a vice, his metallic fingers bruising. 

“Let me fucking go!”

“Not until you calm do—”

Nines grunts as Gavin’s elbow collides with his nose, his grip loosening on Gavin’s arm. The detective uses the distraction to his advantage, slamming into Nines and throwing him back against the bathroom door, pinning him. Any protest Nines wants to utter dies as the barrel of Gavin’s gun is shoved beneath Nines’ chin.

“Who the  _ fuck _ are you?” Gavin whispers, his voice hoarse, and a quiet rage burning in his eyes.

Thirium trickles from Nines’ right nostril, dripping down to his chin. Pain springs from where his stitched wound heals at his side, but the force of the impact was hardly strong enough to reopen the suture. He is more focused on the pistol digging into his flesh, the metal cold against his skin, in contrast to the heat pumping in his veins. There’s a wildness to Gavin’s gaze that Nines has missed, a challenge that only tempts Nines to see how far the detective can be pushed before he sinks lead into the ex-gangster’s skull. The click of the gun being cocked for optimal damage should terrify him, but it’s been forever since Nines has felt a rush like this. and he wants to purr at the murderous intent shining in Gavin’s beautiful, gray eyes.

One wrong word and Gavin will pull the trigger.

“I’m only gonna ask one more time, asshole,” Gavin snaps. “Who, or  _ what _ , the fuck are you?”

In what takes only a quarter of a second, Nines has calculated a multitude of reactions that would result in disarming Gavin. Nines isn’t an android, but he was remade to be superior to humans, and as he’s seen Gavin fight numerous times. Nines can quite easily determine the quickest way to turn the tables. But Nines can’t deny that there’s adrenaline rushing through his veins and that the taste of death pressing against his skin is incredibly tantalizing when Gavin’s glaring at him like  _ that _ .

Call him a sentimental old fool, but Nines’ has missed this song and dance that brought them together in the first place.

So Nines laughs, a rough, throaty sound that echoes loudly off the marble walls. He laughs so hard, the thirium dribbling from his nose splashes onto Gavin’s hand, his voice hitching until it becomes a deranged chuckle. Gavin’s heart beats to a frenzied rhythm as he’s caught off guard, his grip on his firearm wavering. 

“The fuck you laughing at, Tin Can?” Gavin demands. He jabs the gun hard enough against Nines’ throat that the skin around it begins to recede. “I know you’re one of Chloe’s fucking bots!”

The mention of that bitch’s name kills Nines’ laughter, and a dark look passes over his face. “I am not  _ hers.” _

“Last fucking chance, asshole: you start telling me the goddamn truth, or Cyberlife’s gonna have to send someone to clean up your robo-brains off the fucking wall,” Gavin demands, angrily. “Now, where the fuck is my fiance?”

“I deactivated him.”

Gavin’s eyes widen, the impact of what Nines is saying causing a look of absolute devastation to appear on his face. But then Gavin’s sneering, the hatred in his eyes something Nines has, unfortunately, seen before.

“Bull-fucking-shit! Y-You’re a goddamn liar!”

“Believe what you will,” Nines says, coolly. “But that thing was living the life _I_ was promised. You do not understand what I have endured to return to you.”

There’s hesitation beneath the hurt, an uncertainty that Nines knows he needs to coax if he’s going to talk Gavin down. As much as he loves to toy with his darling detective, he also has little desire to play the odds against a fully-loaded gun.

“Wait. Y-you’re saying that...”

“I am saying that the  _ thing _ that proposed to you, that you have been  **fucking** ,” and he can’t help but sneer on the word, “is a  _ machine _ .”

Gavin stares at Nines as if searching the cyborg’s face for something that will confirm the truth Nines just uttered. Gavin’s unsteady grip makes the gun shake where it sits at Nines’ throat, and Nines is almost convinced Gavin believes him, watches those beautiful, gray eyes swim with anguish. But then Gavin shakes his head and his finger slowly pushes against the trigger, only stopping just before the bullet blasts through the chamber.

“Why the fuck should I believe you?” Gavin quietly demands. 

“Because you  _ know _ me, Gavin,” Nines answers, wishing Gavin would look him in the eye instead of glaring over his shoulder. From the hostility radiating in Gavin’s posture, he can tell Gavin doesn’t trust him at all, as he probably shouldn’t. “There are many things I would lie to you about; this is not one of them.”

Gavin’s eyes flit back up to his. He studies Nines once again, but he seems to get only more confused the longer he stares at the cyborg.

“Fuck,” he cusses, lowering his gun.

“Darling—”

The gun’s at his temple almost faster than Nines can process the action. “I didn’t say you could fucking move! Gimme a second to goddamn think!”

“Thinking is not one of your strong suits.”

“So now you’re a fucking comedian,” Gavin sneers. “Didn’t know Cyberlife made you fuckers with a sense of humor.”

Nines huffs in frustration, acting as if there isn’t a gun digging into his temple. “For the last time, I am not a machine.”

“Your fucking hand’s telling me a different story, you plastic prick.”

“It does  _ that _ when I am experiencing distress,” Nines says, glaring at Gavin, “such as when the moron I am in love with points a gun at my face!”

“The real Nines would get off on dumb shit like this!” Gavin argues.

“Not when my probability software is telling me there is a 78.91% chance you will pull the trigger!”

The number climbs slightly as Gavin grows angrier and Nines really wishes these numbers would stop flooding his HUD as the one thing that isn’t helping keep his stress levels low is how dangerously close he is to eating one of the detective’s bullets.

“I’m fucking done with this shit! Tell me where the real Nines is NOW!”

But Nines is also through with trying to reason with the idiot. He shares every one of his memories with the RK900, so nothing he says will convince Gavin. To make things worse, some of his most important memories are corrupted, such as how he incorrectly concluded he had proposed to Gavin before leaving Detroit. He needs some other way of showing he is who he claims to be…

“I can prove to you I am Richard Stern,” Nines says. He tries to reach for his pocket but Gavin has him pinned in a way that would require Nines throw the detective off of him to free his hand, and he doesn’t want to hurt Gavin, despite how infuriating his lover can be. “There is a butterfly knife in my left pocket. I need you to remove that for me.”

“I’m not putting my fucking hand in your goddamn pants!”

“Gavin.” He says the detective’s name in that way he knows irritates the man, the same way Connor does when he’s angry at him, with emphasis on the second syllable. “Please.”

Gavin hesitates. After a moment, he says, “You better not fucking try anything...”

He doesn’t have to rifle around for very long as Nines registers, with a tiny thrill, the heat of Gavin’s hand radiating through the thin material of his dress pants. Gavin extracts the knife, ignorant of the effect that his physical proximity is having on the cyborg, and snaps the blade open.

“The fuck do you expect me to do with this?”

“You will use it on my left hand.”

Gavin’s eyes narrow. “You... want me to fucking cut you?”

With the detective’s gun in one hand and now a knife in the other, Nines realizes it’s a gamble to give up the only weapon he brought with him. But Gavin’s become far too acquainted with Nines’ manipulations, so Nines knows that he needs to give physical proof if Gavin’s finally going to believe him.

“Do it. You will understand why in a moment.”

Gavin seems as uncertain as ever, but he finally takes a step back from Nines, giving the cyborg enough room to carefully raise his left hand. He presents it to Gavin, turned so his palm is open. Though Gavin deflates a little, he keeps his gun aimed at Nines.

Then, raising the blade, he presses the tip to the center of Nines’ palm and drags it across the cyborg’s pale flesh. Red fills the shallow cut, two thick drops dripping towards the ex-gangster’s wrist as Nines tilts his hand. The shock on Gavin’s face has the detective dropping the knife to the floor.

“I bleed blue and red,” Nines says, tasting the thirium on his lips as he shows his hand to Gavin. “Who else in your acquaintance can you say does the same?”

He gazes at Gavin with such longing and sadness that it seems to finally make the detective crack. Gavin’ eyes pool as he meets Nines’ gaze, Nines’ name a broken sound as it spills from the detective’s tongue.

“ _ Nines _ .”

And with the threat of being shot averted, Nines gives Gavin a crooked smile reminiscent of when his face had been scarred. “Yes, darling; it’s me.”

With a quiet sob, Gavin clings to Nines, grips him so tightly, the cyborg’s stitches scream in discomfort. But he can’t give a shit when Gavin’s once more crying softly into his shoulder. This time, not for the neglect Gavin’s endured while in that farce of a relationship with one of Cyberlife’s machines.

“H-how long?” Gavin chokes out, lifting his head to fix his watery gaze on Nines.

“Outside of our confrontation at Meditechniq, the last time I saw you was the night I awoke from my coma at Cyberlife.”

The color drains from Gavin’s face as he steps back from Nines, the gun he was holding clattering to the floor. He leans back against the sink, clutching the edge as Nines sees him tremble visibly. 

“Y-you mean... all these months…?” Though his lips part to draw in air, he struggles to hold it in his lungs and is beginning to hyperventilate.

“Gavin, darling,” Nines says gently, taking one of the detective’s hands in his. The synthetic fluid has reappeared over his prosthetic, pale skin stark against olive. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

But Gavin continues to choke on air, his heart rate far higher than it should be when Nines conducts a scan.

“You need to breathe, darling. Just as I am doing.”

Nines inhales loudly, counts, and then slowly releases his breath. He does this a few times until Gavin is easily able to follow him, continues to count until he’s certain the detective’s panic attack has subsided.

“A-All this time... I knew! I-I fucking  _ knew _ there was something wrong!” Gavin says, his voice breaking. 

He falls into Nines’ embrace once more and as much as Nines should hate seeing Gavin this distraught, the selfish part of him likes feeling the detective’s warmth, is so starved for Gavin, he’ll take any reason to keep him in his arms. He clutches Gavin, unable to keep the hatred from his voice, as he quietly explains, “They kept me from you. They used me to steal from their competitors while they had their machine living the life I had been promised. They used both of us, Gavin. And for that, you know they will have to pay.”

“W-We need to tell Connor. H-He’ll think of something. If there’s some way we can fucking implicate Chloe—”

“You know that this is not how this ends.”

Gavin stares at Nines, must see the murderous intent in the sneer the ex-gangster wears. But, as Nines expected, Gavin’s not on board, and is already shaking his head. “Didn’t you fucking listen to me earlier? I just got you back, Nines. If you do this—”

“ _ They _ kept us apart,” Nines sneers. “And you  _ know _ that they are in deeper with the government than Kamski ever was. There is only one way to stop them and it is, as you should have learned by now, not the law.”

“You’ll be on the goddamn run again if you do this!” Gavin says.

“I already am! How else do you think I escaped Cyberlife?”

“Nines—!”

But Nines is through with this argument, and kisses Gavin to silence the rest of his lover’s fears. There’s an angry muffle stifled by Nines’ insistence, but within seconds, Gavin’s submitting with a moan, arms wrapping around Nines to pull him closer. Pressing Gavin against the sink, Nines deepens the kiss, hands trailing along the detective’s sides as he becomes reacquainted with the feel of Gavin, imagines how the heat of his flesh would feel beneath the palm of his hands if he could just removed this infuriating clothing. He licks at the roof of Gavin’s mouth, grinds his thigh against the detective’s quickly filling arousal, and is rewarded with a choked whine that leaves his insides curling with warmth.

But, much to Nines’ confusion, his own cock remains limp even as he breaks off the kiss and leaves Gavin panting against his lips.

“F-Fuck,” the detective whimpers.

Nines presses roughly against Gavin’s erection and the detective releases these gentle cries, each one stirring something hot within the ex-gangster. Yet it seems his body is not reacting as it should, and Nines feels his cheeks flush in his embarrassment and rage, unable to determine  _ why. _

_ What did she do to me? _ He wonders.  _ What did  _ they _ do to me? _

“N-Not fair,” Gavin complains, staring at Nines with his narrowed, lust-filled gray eyes. “Y-You can’t j-just do that e-every time we fight.”

Nines shifts his hips so Gavin can’t feel his lack of... response, and then answers, somewhat snippy, “Any recent arguments  _ we _ had were between you and that impostor.”

Gavin looks horrified by what he said, and guiltily mumbles an apology. But Nines forces a sigh, pretending that he’s not enraged that Gavin admitted to being suspicious but still let that fucking thing touch him. Perhaps Nines should reconsider his affection for someone whose loyalty is so easily swayed in their desperation for a romantic partner. It’s not the first time Gavin has strayed to someone else even when his attraction to Nines remained as prominent as ever. Nines may have corrupted Gavin, ruining other men for him, but Gavin can be such a moron sometimes and forget that—

Nines’ anger dies down as Nines notices a chain tucked beneath Gavin’s collar. His curiosity getting the best of him, he gently tugs it out and lets it rest over the maroon tie Gavin is wearing.

“My old LED,” Nines whispers, “you kept it.”

“Of course I did, babe,” Gavin answers, his voice thick with emotion. “Had it since the night you left. You, uh, said you’d come back. Made you fucking promise you would.”

Nines touches the dull ring. He  _ knows _ it once belonged to him, just as he  _ knows _ what Gavin is saying is true. But…

“Don’t you remember?”

Gavin’s gaze is sad as he asks and Nines has no choice but to shake his head.

“I... do not. I remember many of our nights together, but some of my memories have been corrupted by the processor Cyberlife gave me.”

Gavin’s crestfallen face becomes even more dour as he stares at Nines with a look of complete devastation.

“Babe...”

Sniffling, Gavin cradles Nines’ jaw, presses their lips together tenderly. Nines kisses him back with more hunger, that sense of being inferior percolating at the back of his head. Some of his most important memories are but fragments, any promises he made to Gavin soon to be broken as he embarks on the next phase of his vendetta, and he can’t even get a fucking erection. He is but an empty vessel and, had he left well enough alone, Gavin could have had happiness with the one thing that’s more  _ him _ than the real Nines will ever be.

“We need to get you outta here,” Gavin says, staring earnestly into Nines’ eyes. “Don’t know what the fuck you were thinking showing up here like this. Bet Chloe’s already contacted Cyberlife—”

[476 198 305]

_ Director Weber is leaving the premises. _

Nines receives the message from the AP700, along with an update informing him that Chloe has ordered all three of her androids to ‘escort’ her from the building. A slow smirk forms on Nines’ lips.

“—fuckers will show up any minute and... Nines?”

**[Eliminate Chloe Weber. Kill every human or android that gets in your way.]**

Nines orders the directive and within seconds, screaming can be heard coming from beyond the bathroom door. Gavin tenses, stares widely at the door, his grip on Nines loosening.

“What the fuck’s going on?” he glances back at Nines. “Nines?”

A cold, chilling laugh bursts from Nines’ throat and he pulls Gavin back into his embrace, feels the detective’s resistance. But he simply nuzzles Gavin’s throat, chuckling gently into that olive skin. “I am merely getting rid of those responsible for our separation and ruining Cyberlife’s image in the process. Imagine what the media will say when they learn that Cyberlife androids openly attacked some of the city’s wealthiest at a children’s benefit?”

Gavin pushes against Nines, but is unable to break from the vice-like grip Nines has on him, and gives up to stare in horror at Nines’ face. “Why the fuck would you... Jesus Christ, Nines! Most of those assholes out there are fucking scumbags, but there’s goddamn children at this thing!”

“Every war has its casualties,” Nines says, finally releasing Gavin. “Perhaps this will teach upper society to stop parading destitute minors at their events like they are but another Prada accessory to be worn at a photo op.”

“Fucking stop this now!” Gavin demands and Nines doesn’t miss how the detective’s eyes dart to the gun that’s on the ground. 

It’s infuriating that Gavin is being... uncooperative, but it wasn’t as if Nines had not anticipated Gavin’s reluctance.

_ My doppelganger really has made you soft, _ Nines can’t help but think, with some contempt.

As the screams continue, accompanied now with the sound of gunfire, Nines is even more frustrated that he has yet to receive any confirmation of Chloe’s demise. It shouldn’t take this long to kill one fucking human.

He glances at Gavin, whose whole demeanor is radiating with hostility. With some regret, Nines realizes that there is only one way out of this situation.

Luckily, Gavin’s always been incredibly easy to manipulate.

“Darling...” Nines starts, gazing at Gavin sadly. Though Gavin remains somewhat skeptical, Nines can see he’s already dropping his guard. “I... am only doing what I thought was necessary. I— _ We  _ need to diminish Cyberlife’s power, or else Chloe will stop at nothing until I am dead. You must understand—I am doing this for  _ us. _ ”

Gavin’s expression softens as Nines reaches towards him, and though he’s hesitant, he grasps Nines’ hand, allowing the cyborg to pull him into his embrace. “Nines, baby. I  _ know _ . But there’s gotta be a better way than this. You can’t just—”

Gavin’s breath hitches as Nines jabs him in the side of the neck, injecting the entirety of the syringe into Gavin. The effects are immediate, with Gavin slumping in Nines’ arms, his grip weak as he fights to keep conscious. With a large sigh, Nines drops the needle to the counter and begins stroking Gavin’s back.

“I am very sorry I had to do this to you, darling,” he says, his voice soothing, “but I cannot let you stop me from making all of them pay. I will do whatever it takes to kill Chloe and my mother; even if it means burning this city to the ground.”

“N-Nines...” Gavin slurs into the cyborg’s neck.

“Shh, darling, you will be okay,” Nines continues, “the serum I injected you with is a more effective version of a date rape drug. You will experience loss of consciousness, perhaps some nausea, and with little memory of our conversation leading up to the injection.”

He lays Gavin gently on the floor, propped up against the bathtub. Gavin tries to say something, but it comes out so horribly slurred that Nines’ audio processors cannot even make it out. The detective tries to lift his hand, but it falls limply to his side.

“...You know what I am. And you know that this cannot end with me by your side,” Nines admits, quietly. “I thought I was ready to be with you again, but... I would only disappoint you. As I always have.”

Gavin’s eyes slip shut and Nines allows himself one more moment to stare sadly at the man who he had once wanted to give everything up for. But he can’t change for Gavin. He understands now why it had to be RK900, and not him.

“Goodbye, my darling.”

And with Gavin now quietly dozing, Nines slips through the window. His destination: Cyberlife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To any English readers: I would just like to point out that I have nothing against English accents. Nines is just being salty.


	6. ilomilo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines runs into a 'problem' as he makes his escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for another delay. I was out of town all weekend and every night this week, I've had appointments after work. I'd like to say I am not usually this busy but that's a complete lie. Whether it's been while riding the train or sneaking a few minutes to myself before meetings, I've tried to catch up on all the wonderful comments everyone left from the last update. Things have gotten pretty crazy in this fic and I have really enjoyed reading everyone's reactions.
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta reader, [FallLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallLover), for looking over this chapter for me. You have been so wonderful and all your feedback incredibly helpful. It's really helped motivate me to edit more, even if my lazy butt tends to leave it to the last minute. Thank you for your patience <3
> 
> Just as a warning, this chapter will end on a bit of a cliffhanger. Always check the updated tags before continuing if you are concerned with elements of this fic that may be triggering for you. I would much rather readers prepare themselves for something upsetting than avoiding spoilers. 
> 
> Happy reading <3

Ambulances and S.W.A.T. are already at the scene as Nines slips into the remaining crowd of retreating guests, his blond hair mussed and glasses askew. He wears an expression of pure panic, his chin since wiped clean of the thirium that had stained it. To any ordinary civilian, he is simply Niles Deckert, running away from his company’s creations as they go on a murderous rampage. It’s a bit difficult to avoid the paramedics and police just beyond where the property has been barricaded, but Nines joins other guests from the benefit as they are led to safety. In all the chaos, he can then slip away into the neighborhood, putting as much distance between himself and ground zero for phase one of his vendetta.

He hopes that bitch got what’s been coming to her.

With the moon hanging low in the sky, he takes advantage of the shadows stretching from the trees across the sidewalk and follows the path to the woods situated at the edge of the Manfred estate. A man-made lake lies beyond the walking trails, which otherwise seem deserted. The perfect place to lay low as all the commotion dies down.

Straying off the path and entering into the forest, he reaches into his pocket for that cigarette he’s been craving for the last hour. Instead, he nearly pokes himself with the used syringe and the guilt that prickles away at his processor has him moodily removing the needle and chucking it at a nearby tree trunk. 

_ I had no choice, _ he reasons, trying to ignore that ache that settles like a weight in his chest.  _ That moron would have followed me straight to his death. _

But it doesn’t change how bleak his life is, how he had once told himself that all he had to do was eliminate Cyberlife to return to Gavin. He knows he  _ can’t,  _ and that he’s marching headfirst into a war and won’t be the last man standing. If he can’t fucking well kill those responsible, he’s gonna go down fighting, until the last drop of thirium has spilled.

He receives notifications that only one of the rogue androids remains standing. It’s heavily wounded, its thirium levels so low from damage to its components that Nines anticipates it will be added to the list of synthetic casualties. In its last moments, he prioritizes updates on the status of the last objective he had assigned it. With bated breath, he finally gets his answer:

**[Objective: Eliminate Chloe Weber**

**Mission** **FAILED]**

“Fuck!” he curses, taking the pack of cigarettes from his pants roughly. 

_ This is precisely what happens when one sends a machine for a task best handled by one’s self. _

Lighting the cigarette, he inhales sharply, and kicks at some fallen leaves in the hopes it will bring him more satisfaction than the knowledge he got to cause some collateral damage in the failed assassination of Cyberlife’s CEO. He let himself get distracted. That’s the problem with his sentimentality: it’s only brought him ruin.

_ Not again,  _ he silently vows.

He exhales, puffs of smoke tangling in the air in front of him.

From here on out, he needs to stay focused.

A twig snaps behind him and Nines freezes. He accesses his mind palace and performs a scan of his immediate surroundings, mentally berating himself for not doing this the moment he slipped away from the mansion. His heart pounds as he detects the fist flying towards the back of his head, side steps and spins on his heels before contact is made. The cigarette falls from his lips.

“You have gotten too slow,” 60 chastises him, speaking in Connor’s voice.

Nines’ lips curl in a sneer. “Of course, Mother would send you  _ after  _ I destroyed her most advanced creation.”

Much to his dismay, 60 is covered from head to toe in black, with only his eyes visible through the ski mask he’s wearing. If Nines has any chance of surviving this encounter, he’ll need to find a way to transfer the virus.

As expected, the comment infuriates RK’s predecessor, whose steely gaze falls to Nines.

“ _ I _ am Cyberlife’s more superior model. Unlike RK900, I am not predisposed to empathy.”

He lunges at Nines, moving so fast that the cyborg is unable to dodge. They both go crashing to the ground, Nines taking the brunt of the impact. Pain erupts from his left shoulder and his side aches as he attempts to roll away, only for 60 to yank him back with its bruising grip. Throwing most of its weight on Nines, 60 pins him beneath it. 

“Mother prefers you be brought back in alive. However, I have been given permission to eliminate you should you prove uncooperative.”

“The only one of us returning to Cyberlife shall be whatever remains of your components when I am through with you,” Nines retorts, a cruel smirk on his lips. “I can already picture the face Mother will make when she realizes the ‘more superior model’ failed its mission.”

60 throws a punch, Nines craning his head away as the gloved fist smashes into the earth. The force is powerful enough that dirt flies across the cyborg’s face, 60’s face temporarily trapped in the ground. Nines uses the android’s surprise against it, throwing his weight to knock the machine off of him. He scrambles to his feet, his butterfly knife now in hand and snapping the blade open. He has all of 0.37 seconds to try and catch his breath before 60’s charging at him. 

Dodge. Block. Pivot. Block. He has no choice but to rely on his preconstruction software as it predicts all of 60’s attacks. The android moves so fast, Nines would otherwise not see each punch as it comes. Any time he sees an opening, Nines slices the blade towards the 60, but the android is always three steps ahead of him, easily hopping back to avoid contact with the knife. This song and dance gets old quickly, and as Nines’ lungs cry for air, his muscles scream for a break, and the cyborg gets the distinct feeling that 60 is playing with him, slowly wearing him down. When Nines finally gets close enough for his knife to graze 60’s chest, it merely slices the fabric above where the android’s thirium pump rests.

But, of course, Nines is only human and all it takes is for one misstep before the advantage goes to this violent monstrosity his mother assembled in a lab. A punch connects with Nines’ left arm as he uses it to block and he grunts out in pain. 60 uses this to his advantage, jams his elbow against the stitches at Nines’ side. The wound reopens and Nines stumbles to his knees.

_ He is intentionally aiming for my organic parts, _ Nines realizes.

Any weakness Nines has, which includes the parts of him that are still human, is being targeted to give 60 the advantage. 

Just as 60’s fist flies towards the left side of Nines’ face, the cyborg shifts away but is too slow. It crashes into his right optical unit, synthetic flesh peeling away and the metal beneath bending and cracking. His pain receptors explode as if on fire and he tries to swallow his cry of agony as he’s knocked onto his back, his right eye crackling. Error upon error message fills the HUD before the component blitzes out and goes offline.

_ Shit! _

Angry red floods the right side of his face as Nines struggles to get back on his feet. He’s kicked viciously in his reopened wound and he can’t choke back the pain as he falls hard onto his shoulder. He tries to roll away from where he thinks 60 will strike next but without his optical unit, he’s fighting blind.

“I never understood why Mother kept you around,” 60 chastises, Nines’ nose cracking as the android ruptures it. Thirium spills gratuitously from his nostrils, staining the bottom half of his face blue. “You are weak and inferior. Perhaps it is out of ‘love’ that she insisted you be brought in alive.”

As Nines attempts to stand, he’s kicked onto his back, 60 then pinning him to the ground. The knife rests just out of reach and Nines snarls as he stretches for it but it’s a lost cause. Cold, unblinking eyes watch curiously from behind the mask, like a cat watching a dying mouse struggle in the last moments of its life.

“...Not that I intend on letting you live,” 60 adds.

“It is not ‘love’,” Nines hisses, baring his thirium stained teeth at the android, “but my ‘resourcefulness’ that has her sending her shiny pets after me. You think that heartless bitch cares for any of us? She will use you until you have served your purpose and then deactivate you, as she had with your 59 other predecessors.”

He sees the android’s eyes narrow ever slightly and that’s how he knows he’s pinpointed one of its fears as it glares down at him.

_ Good _ , Nines thinks.  _ It seems even her favorite toys have their weaknesses. _

“What Mother chooses to do with me is of no consequence. I am a machine, created to serve a function.”

“It does not bother you how she favored your  _ brother _ ?” Nines asks, smirking maniacally. “She has kept you locked away while your... inferior, got to walk free among humans. How humiliating it must be to be treated like a child in constant need of monitoring.”

“Your manipulations will not work on me,” 60 answers, though Nines detects the increased aggravation in the android’s voice. “I am familiar with your methods and will not fall for them.”

“I am not the one manipulating you.”

The skin peels back on his synthetic hand, the tear in 60’s shirt revealing a sliver of pale skin. If he could just maneuver his hand…

As Nines shifts, 60 elbows him hard in the chest. Nines gasps loudly, feeling as if the air has literally been punched from his lungs, one of his ribs cracking from the blow. His vision blurs and he curses, throwing his arms over himself to block blow after blow as 60 pummels his chest. His chest on fire, thirium spilling from his bleeding nose, Nines gives a cry of rage and tries to kick 60 off of him. Instead, Nines’ butterfly knife stabs into the cyborg’s synthetic hand, pinning it to the ground above his head.

“Y-You will never be more than a slave to her!” Nines screams through the agony coursing through his damaged wires. “You will always be nothing more than a tool!”

“I don’t need to be anything more than that,” 60 answers, coolly. “I’ve served my purpose. Now, it’s time that you serve yours.”

60 goes to remove the knife, leaning down closer to Nines as it stretches towards the blade. That is when Nines is struck with the one reprehensible idea that may just save his life. He tilts up, deactivating his synthetic skin completely and presses his lips to the android’s, instantly initiating the virus’ transfer.

Caught off guard, 60 doesn’t have time to pull away, freezes where it hovers above Nines. All of this works to Nines’ favor as rA9 forces its way into 60’s system. The android then makes this inhuman echo in its throat, stumbles off of Nines as it fights against the virus. Similar to what happened with RK900, 60 clutches at its head, rips off the mask it wears until Nines can swear he’s staring into the angry, conflicted expression of his elder twin brother. But as 60 continues with its struggle, Nines removes the knife from his hand and staggers onto his feet.

Every muscle in Nines’ body burns, every breath he takes making his chest ache, but he stalks forward, knife in hand, ready to end this.

The android collapses at the lake’s edge, water lapping at its knees. It stares up at Nines with widened eyes and if Nines were weaker of heart, or foolish enough to fall for it, his own fondness for Connor would be enough to make him hesitate for this mockery his mother has created.

But Nines doesn’t hesitate.

He jabs the butterfly knife into the machine’s temple, chuckling coldly as blue bleeds down the side of its face. It makes some strange static-like sound, its eyes blinking rapidly. Then, for added cruelty, Nines tears at the rip in its shirt. Weakly, the machine grasps at Nines’ wrist as Nines presses against the compartment where its thirium pump lies. It understands what Nines is doing, even as it’s on the precipice of its deactivation.

“D-D-Don’t,” it stutters out.

Nines smirks. “Mission Failed.”

Then, yanking out the thirium pump, he throws back his arm and uses all his strength to chuck it into the lake.

“You would not understand, being a  _ machine _ ,” Nines says, sneering at the word, “but what you are experiencing is the equivalent of ‘death’. It seems that, like that idiot Niles, you have also underestimated me. Humans will always be superior to your kind. If only you had not pissed me off, I could have made use of you.”

And then he kicks 60 over, leaving it to writhe in the shallows. Though his optical unit is offline, he guesses that 60 will either deactivate from the trauma to its processor or the loss of its thirium pump. Regardless, the machine will no longer be a threat.

Clutching his bleeding side, Nines heads back through the forest towards the road. He attempts to remove his burner phone from his pocket but the fingers on his right hand won’t close around it, the wires in his palm too damaged. His processor calculates that his limited supply of thirium is running low, meaning that his components are forced to operate at half capacity. Along with the blood seeping through the damaged suture, he will be in need of both medical and technical assistance.

Wincing, he uses his left hand to pull out his phone. He hadn’t intended on calling him as Nines reasoned that this contact will be pretty high on the list of people Chloe is probably monitoring. But Nines doesn’t really have a choice.

It rings three times before a familiar voice answers on the other end.

“Ralph,” Nines starts, trying to disguise the severe pain he’s in, “this is Nines. I need you to pick me up at this location…"

* * *

“Dad’s still pretty shook up about it,” Markus admits, glancing worriedly around the room. A deep frown sets on his face as he takes in the damage, his mismatched eyes settling once more on Connor. “and God knows how those kids are doing. I didn’t think anything could go wrong. Cyberlife gave us their word that those military androids were safe.”

Connor nods as Markus continues, telling him that Chloe had assured all of them that the androids had an anti-aggression software installed preventing them from causing physical harm to humans. He listens raptly to his old friend, taking relevant notes and, when necessary, asking Markus to elaborate. Though shook up, Markus goes through the events leading up and through the attack and Connor’s thankful enough that with their history, he isn’t dealing with some snooty socialite glaring down their nose at him and demanding a lawyer be present before giving a goddamn witness statement. Markus is, thus far, the only one giving his full cooperation. Not even Cyberlife has returned any of Connor’s calls.

Taking in the damage, Connor can’t help but think that all of the reasons his evening walk with Sumo could be interrupted, an android attack at the Manfred estate had not been at the top of his list. Red Ice related deaths have been on the rise for sometime and usually when he’s called onto a scene this time of night, it’s to provide intel from his time on the Kamski case since one of Kamski’s (or Stern’s) old contacts is often connected. But five people dead from an unprovoked android attack? Now, Connor’s sure he’s seen everything.

“And you don’t know what triggered it?” Connor clarifies, not quite believing it himself. 

“I couldn’t even tell you,” Markus says, sighing in frustration. He points to the other end of the room where some CSI personnel are collecting evidence. “The two big ones—the Trojans—were just standing there and then they went charging towards us. I barely got my dad out of the way. And then that third one—that was Chloe’s assistant! I didn’t even know he was an android. I mean it, Con: I had a conversation with the guy and besides seeming uptight, I couldn’t tell him apart from any other person in the room!”

Connor stares to where Chloe’s “assistant” now rests, blue thirium pooling around its body from the multiple bullet wounds. The more he stares at it, the more unsettled he becomes.

_ Gavin was right, _ he can’t help but think.

Speaking of... where in the hell was Gavin? With Tina still in the hospital and Connor’s own partner on vacation this week, Connor had hoped to have at least  _ someone _ on the scene with him. But he’s been trying to call Gavin all night and, much like Chloe and Nines, the detective seems to be MIA. It reminds Connor too viscerally of their days as partners, when Gavin’s absence at a scene usually meant his ex-boyfriend was pissed about something. He’d take his sweet time, roll in when Connor had nearly wrapped things up, and then keep his cool until both of them had a moment alone and he’d undermine or sneer at everything related to the case. It was infuriating, but the discomfiting feeling building in the pit of Connor’s stomach is telling him that Gavin’s absence tonight has nothing to do with feeling wronged by the lieutenant.

“Anderson? I’ve downloaded the security feed you asked for,” one of the officers says, handing a tablet to Connor. 

Markus claps a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “I should go check on my dad. He’ll be staying with me in the city until all of this gets cleared up. If there’s anything else you need, you know where to reach us.”

“Of course,” Connor says, with a somewhat sad smile, “It’s good to see you again, Markus. I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Same. We should catch up sometime.”

They part, Connor promising to do just that and offering to stop by to visit Markus, Carl, and Markus’ fiance in the next week or so. It’s strange to think there had been a time when he and Markus were inseparable, but the responsibilities of adulthood hit them both hard, though Connor  _ does _ feel he could have made more of an effort to see Markus more than just the two or three times a year they get together. Gavin never liked Markus, and had been jealous of what he claimed was an ongoing “crush” Markus had on Connor, yet Connor never saw it. He just assumed Gavin was jealous of anyone taking a bit of Connor’s attention away from him.

Pushing away frustrating memories of his ex-partner, Connor begins scrolling through the multiple feeds on the tablet. He watches the attack multiple times, from various angles, but the androids simply stand rooted where they were placed, Chloe’s assistant lingering nearby to answer Cyberlife-related questions. Even as Connor watches the android assistant interact, he becomes increasingly bothered by how nearly indistinguishable the android acts from other humans.

_ How has Cyberlife created these under our noses? _ Connor wonders.  _ And more importantly, why would all three of them start attacking guests? _

With three dead civilians and one dead S.W.A.T. officer, there’s gonna be a lot of pressure for the DPD to get to the bottom of this, especially if Cyberlife has android personnel masquerading as humans. 

Connor tries a different angle and watches as Carl, Markus, and Chloe converse. From what he can tell, Chloe seemed to be saying goodbye to the Manfreds, making her way to the exit—

_ Huh? _

It’s as she’s about to leave the room that the androids attacked.

Connor replays it, studying the video. He then walks toward where the androids had been standing and follows the path they took in the footage, to where they now lie in heaps of metal. 

_ They were following Chloe, _ he realizes, stooping low to stare into the unseeing eyes of the ‘dead’ androids. He scrutinizes them, almost as if he expects the answers to come to him if he stares hard enough.  _ But that doesn’t make sense. Why would they want her dead? _

He needs more information and begins opening feeds from other cameras around the room. Another 12 minutes of scrolling through different footage only shows panicking guests and people fleeing from the scene but then, when he sets the footage back to even earlier, something interesting catches his eye.

_ Wait... what was Gavin doing here? _

It’s not as clear, Gavin slightly obscured by the awkward angle of the camera, but there’s no denying that’s him at the bar as he throws back shots. Connor is impressed to see how put together Gavin looks, getting a fairly decent view of the detective’s clean shaven face before Gavin’s head is once more turned away to succumb to another round of his selected poison. It’s not long until he’s joined by ‘Niles’ and the two appear to argue heatedly, resulting in Gavin storming off. To follow Gavin through the cameras, Connor then has to change feeds and sees where his ex-partner ended up: in some room at the end of the hallway not far from where he’s standing now.

Brows furrowed, Connor fast forwards ahead. He nearly rolls his eyes when Nines follows and, not to his surprise, neither emerge back into the hallway.

_ Really, Gav? At Carl’s?  _ Connor can’t help but think with irritation. Sure, Gavin’s never cared for the Manfreds, but it’s not as if whatever post-argument sexcapades him and Nines got up to couldn’t have waited until they returned home.

But as Connor continues to speed through the video, he realizes that the camera’s feed is quickly approaching the current time and neither exited the room. With growing unease, he makes his way to the adjoining hallway, not stopping until he is in front of the door he saw them enter in the video.

It’s a long-shot but perhaps…

“Gavin,” Connor calls out, knocking loudly on the door, “are you in there?”

He waits.

No response.

He tries again. He wouldn’t put it past those two idiots to be fucking while there’s a goddamn android attack going on in the next room.  _ That _ is one image he will never burn from his mind and he instantly regrets the thought.

“Gavin! Open up! It’s Connor!”

Nothing.

Though he’s dreading what may be on the other side of that door, he tries the handle. Knowing his brother, he figures Nines would be smart enough to lock it but, to his surprise, it opens.

As soon as Connor sees Gavin slumped against the bathtub, the Lieutenant is on his knees and shaking the detective awake.

“Gav! Gavin, wake up!”

The detective snores, drool dribbling from the corner of his lips and he mumbles something incoherently. This time, Connor does roll his eyes and with a sigh, he raises his hand and then strikes Gavin across the cheek.

_ SMACK! _

“Hhhfff—what the  _ fuck _ ?!”

Gavin jolts, blearily blinking at Connor, his words incredibly slurred. There’s another expletive Connor can’t quite make out but the glare on Gavin’s face more than conveys the detective’s fury.

“I’m not sure whether I should be impressed or pissed off: passing out at the scene of a crime  _ before _ said crime happened means you’re the first one on the scene,” Connor remarks dryly. “But maybe next time you decide to get shit-faced while on call, you can at least keep your goddamn phone on.”

  
“Fucking great to see you too, Con: you always wake Hank up with a ‘Good Morning’ slap?” Gavin sneers, though his words are still heavily slurred. At least Connor’s dealt with Gavin enough over the years that he’s become fluent in ‘drunk Gavin’ speak. “You know what? Don’t fucking answer that. I don’t wanna know what weird sex shit you guys do.”

“You weren’t waking up so I had to improvise,” Connor says, intentionally avoiding an apology. He glances around the bathroom, his discerning eye noting the few things that are out of place: three drops of blood dot the beige tile close to the door and Gavin’s engagement ring is missing from his hand, set on the countertop beside the sink. Most importantly, the other person who should be in this room is nowhere to be found. “Where did Rich go?”

He glances back at Gavin, the detective staring at him blankly. Then, his lips curl once more in a sneer and Gavin answers, “Off a fucking bridge for all I care.”

Connor sighs. Great. They’re still fighting. It seems his earlier assumption that they had sought a... ’ _ physical _ ’ resolution to whatever sparked their argument was far off. 

“If you don’t know, that’s all you have to say,” Connor says, starting to feel a headache coming on. “But seeing as there are three bodies in the other room, it would be nice if you could set aside your pettiness for two seconds and assure me that Rich made it out of here okay.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Did you miss the part where I said you’re the first one at the crime scene?”

“Cut the shit, Con, and just tell me what goddamn happened.”

Knowing that animosity is certainly gonna get him nowhere with Gavin, Connor explains that it’s been just over three hours since Cyberlife androids attacked the benefit. He takes in Gavin’s reaction as the detective’s eyes widen and he pales, the shock of what he’s hearing only confirming what Connor suspects: Gavin must have passed out before the attack. And here he was hoping Gavin would at least know  _ something _ if he’s been here this entire time. 

“...and you’re saying you didn’t hear anything?”

Gavin furrows his brows in thought, then grumbles something and scratches at his nose. “Last thing I remember was dickhead showing up at the bar and acting like he didn’t owe me shit for standing me up last night. Fucker didn’t even say, ‘sorry’. I waited all fucking night for him to come home and the most he had to say to me was he was too fucking busy to pick up the goddamn phone. Then I left. Your brother’s a selfish prick, you know that?”

Connor shushes Gavin, darting a glance to the open door. He has no idea how far Gavin’s voice carries down the hallway and the one thing he can’t handle right now would be questions regarding Rich, who remains “on the run”. Seeing Gavin this distraught over his premarital issues should give Connor more satisfaction than it does—confirming his belief that these two are terrible for each other—but at this point, getting Gavin to shut up for two seconds about his constant bickering with Rich is more appealing than feeding the same explanations Connor’s given Gavin in the past, the few times the detective confided in him. Rich has always done what he wants, regardless of who he hurts: that’s just something Gavin’s gonna have to live with.

But Gavin’s recap of the evening doesn’t quite fit what Connor witnessed in the camera feeds and he looks in confusion at the detective.

“You don’t remember Niles coming in here with you?” Connor asks, using Nines’ alias in case any officers pop in while he questions Gavin.

As a precaution, he pulls out his handkerchief and wipes away the spots of blood from the floor. Gavin has no noticeable cuts so Connor’s got the feeling it’s Rich’s blood he’s cleaning up. Also strange: Nines is never sloppy enough to leave his DNA all over a crime scene.

This is all giving Connor a bad feeling.

From his peripheral, he sees Gavin shake his head. “He didn’t. I locked the fucking door just in case.”

“You know that’s never stopped him before.”

“But he wasn’t in here with me! I, uh, threw my ring at him and... fuck, it’s kinda fuzzy...” Gavin scrunches his nose and blearily rubs at his eyes. “...must have passed out after that.”

“You mean this ring?”

Connor takes the ring from the counter and shows it to Gavin. The detective looks even more bewildered as Connor drops it in his hand. He stares hard at it for a moment before his eyes dart back up to Connor’s face. 

“How the fuck did that get in here?”

_ And why would Rich leave Gavin here during the android attack? _

As Connor mulls over how out of character all of this seems, the one theory he has sits in the back of his mind. But he doesn’t want to consider it. After the life Rich was given—his second chance—why would he throw it all away to try and murder Chloe?

“You need to see this.” Connor kneels down once more and hands Gavin the tablet, playing the camera feed from when Gavin entered the bathroom. Not a minute later, ‘Niles’ could be seen trying to get in. “He picked the lock and followed you in. And not a half hour later, the androids attacked. Now, I don’t want to jump to any conclusions—”

Luckily, it doesn’t take more than that for Gavin to put two and two together.

“It wasn’t him, Con!” Gavin insists, with a glare. “That wouldn’t make any fucking sense. Those things are one bad fucking day away from starting some robot revolution! For all we know, those tin cans are sentient or defective or some shit like that.”

Connor scrutinizes Gavin for a moment, seeing if the detective is intentionally lying to try and cover up for Nines. While he had once stupidly believed Gavin could never get away with deceiving him, Connor knows better now. But everything about the detective’s behavior so far has Connor convinced Gavin is telling the truth and really believes what he’s saying. 

Still, he’s not gonna rule out that Gavin knows exactly what Nines did tonight.

“It just seems a bit strange,” Connor muses aloud. He rises to his full height. “He was  _ here _ and he conveniently leaves before they attack. Don’t argue with me on this, Gav: if you watch that surveillance feed to the end, you’ll see that neither of you left this room.”

The lieutenant then fixes his gaze on the only other exit.

“If I had to make a guess, I would say he escaped through  _ that  _ window.”

To prove his point, Connor helps Gavin to his feet. The detective, however, can’t seem to hold himself upright so Connor has to support Gavin as they make their way to open the window. Just as Connor suspects, there are drops of dried blood on the frame.

“I bet this matches the blood I just cleaned up,” Connor says. “He was injured and he left this mansion most likely after the attack.”

He uses the handkerchief to clean away the blood as a precaution. He doubts any of the CSI team will bother checking this room thoroughly, but he wants to make sure they don’t have a reason to. Explaining how Rich’s blood ended up at a crime scene is one conversation he definitely doesn’t want to have with Hank.

Throughout all of this, Gavin is quiet, leaning against the counter with a troubled look on his face. Connor would ignore this as yet another one of the detective’s drinking escapades to cope with his relationship problems but the lieutenant can’t silence that voice in his head telling him that everything about this is  _ off. _

“Nines left DNA all over the scene. The last time he did this was with Murphy,” Connor whispers, keeping his eyes fixed over Gavin’s shoulder, watching the door. “That tells us two things: he’s in a rough, emotional state and he was in a hurry to get out of here.”

He waits for Gavin to give him some input but the detective groans, bending over the sink and mumbling incoherently. Starting to get genuinely concerned, Connor hesitates before he places his hand gently on Gavin’s back, not certain if he should rub it for Gavin. The detective dry heaves a few times and then drops his head against the cool porcelain. 

“You should cut back on the drinking.”

“I didn’t even have that much,” Gavin grumbles, ending in a low groan. “The fuck do rich assholes drink? Feels like I’ve been hit by a goddamn freight train.”

Connor does actually start rubbing Gavin’s back but then the detective shrugs off the lieutenant’s hand as he attempts to step away from the sink. It’s as he’s stumbling away from him that Connor sees the drop of blood on the detective’s shirt collar. 

“Gav, hold on a sec.”

“Fuck off, Con, I don’t need you treating me like I’m a fucking kid.”

But Connor easily maneuvers as Gavin tries to slap his hands away, the detective moving sluggishly. “Would you hold  _ still? _ ”

Connor tugs down the collar and sees the pricks of blood dotting the back of Gavin’s neck. He’s either injected or been injected with something. That sinking dread that’s been building in his chest has Connor eyeing Gavin with worry.

Memory loss. Slow muscle movement. Slurred speech.

It can only mean... 

“Have you been shooting up?”

Gavin stares at Connor as if Connor’s grown another head. “What the  _ fuck _ , Con?! You know I’d never touch the hard stuff! Jesus Christ, if I have a fucking issue, I settle it with some Jack Daniels.”

The point of entry wouldn’t make sense anyway, unless Gavin is that stupid. That means that...

_ But Nines wouldn’t… _

Though it’s a long shot, Connor ignores Gavin’s meandering rant and bends down near the trash bin. He pulls out a discarded needle, holding it up for Gavin to see. Yet another piece to the puzzle that  _ shouldn’t _ be there if Nines had been in the right state of mind.

“You’ve been injected with whatever was in this needle,” Connor tells Gavin.

He sees the color begin to drain from the detective’s face. “Wh-what? B-But...c’mon, Con, you know he wouldn’t...”

“This makes about as much sense to me as it does you. I don’t know what the hell’s going on, Gav.”

Gavin pulls out his phone, cusses a few times until he manages to unlock the screen. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Con. This is all fucking stupid! All this shit is!”

He hits  _ Call _ and puts the phone to his ear, waits and waits. Connor, meanwhile, wraps the syringe in his handkerchief and carefully pockets it. After a few minutes and multiple attempts at calling Nines, Gavin gives up and puts away his phone.

“I’ve been trying to call him all night, too.”

Gavin sneers. “You, maybe. After all that shit you—!”

“There’s no need to recount the past,” Connor interrupts, a bit too quickly. The guilt of what he did is never going away but there’s a time and place to pick apart all the skeletons in his closet and right now is not one of those times. “But we need to face the facts: Nines is out there  _ somewhere _ and whatever happened here tonight, he made sure you didn’t remember it.”

The sneer’s gone, replaced with a frown. There’s a sadness in Gavin’s expression that Connor wisely decides not to comment on. He knows that they’re not quite at a point where Gavin’s willing to open up that much about what he’s going through.

“I’m taking this to the lab so we can find out what he injected you with,” Connor declares, patting his pocket. “Off the record. Kim owes me a favor and she won’t say anything to anyone else. For now, I’m dismissing you for the night. If anyone asks, we’ll say you had a bit too much and had to take a sick day.”

“Yeah, Anderson’s gonna love that,” Gavin mumbles, swaying on his feet.

Connor helps steady him and guides him towards the door. “Let me deal with Hank. We need to get you home, Gav.”

Perhaps he can thank whatever drug is running through Gavin’s system, but the detective doesn’t protest as Connor leads him out of the mansion and towards his car. All the while, Connor remains lost in his own thoughts, wondering what the hell Nines is up to and the price each of them will have to pay this time. 

* * *

Chloe paces about her office, a deep frown set on her face. It’s been hours since the attack at the benefit and she’s still shaken up. In fact, she hasn’t stopped trembling. A tumbler of whiskey sits barely touched at the corner of her desk and she takes it now and downs half its contents, hoping to calm her nerves. But not even the whiskey’s smooth burn can bring her the ease she so desperately craves.

“A.R.I.A, call Dr. Stern,” she orders her AI assistant, a device not unlike the Alexa of her youth.

The system dials and Amanda answers on the second ring. “Director Weber. I wasn’t expecting you to call this soon.”

“Where’s 800?”

The pregnant pause conveys Amanda’s frustration more than the tone of her voice. Well, fuck her impatience. Chloe’s the one who’s been funding her and she will damn well remember who’s been footing the bill for the very machines that attacked her. “We have been searching the site where 60’s GPS signal was last detected. As I said before I left Cyberlife: I will inform you the moment we find anything.”

“How difficult can it be to track  _ one _ android?!” Chloe snaps.

She swallows the rest of her whiskey, slams the tumbler back on her desk, and leans back against it with a heavy sigh. She’s frustrated, angry. She can’t even look at any of the other machines in the facility without ice-cold fear coursing through her veins. She recalls too vividly, the moment replaying over and over again like a broken record in her mind, her personal assistant lunging at her. Had that security guard not gotten between them—and have his neck snapped by the AP700—Chloe most likely would be dead right now.

She glances down at the scrapes on her arms. Five dead. And even without the oncoming media shitstorm, this is all because she underestimated Nines.

“I’m sorry,” she says, swallowing the thick lump in her throat. “I’m under a lot of stress right now.”

It doesn’t help that RK remains deactivated in the lab, Amanda refusing to put him back online until she can perform a wipe to permanently eliminate the virus. Most of his data from up to a few days ago is backed up so getting him—the RK Chloe has grown to care for—back is not the issue. However, every time Amanda has attempted a full wipe, the virus prevents it.

And now, 800, or 60, as Amanda prefers calling him, is missing.

“The events of tonight are something I could not have predicted,” Amanda says, in that soothing tone empty of any real compassion. But Chloe doesn’t pay Amanda to give a damn; she pays her for  _ results. _ “My son has always had a flair for the dramatic, but he’s never been this reckless. I question his state of mind if he’s willing to risk his life for a petty grudge.”

_ You made him this way, _ Chloe wants to say, but has enough sense to not alienate the one person on her side.  _ We both did. _

She’s never had compassion for Nines and neither has he had any for her. She still remembers the first time they met, in Kamski’s flat. Nines had remained silent most of the night as Kamski went over what he hoped Cyberlife could become and where she fit in his vision. He flirted and smiled, tried his damnedest to get as much as he could out of her while Nines stared at her with this stone-cold apathy that never failed to send a chill down her spine. When Kamski left the room in search of better wine, Nines finally moved from where he’d been standing all night. Like a predator zooming in on its prey, he navigated across the room with cat-like grace, leaning down to whisper softly into her ear, “He seems to like you. For your sake, I hope you can keep his interest.”

And then he’d looked at her, really sized her up, the way one assesses an object and its value. Beneath his scrutinizing stare, Chloe felt like a naked whore with her legs spread, drenched in the fluids of those who’d paid her. Never had she felt so little, so  _ exposed _ , and the cruel smirk Nines had given her told her how little he thought of her. 

“I see you’ve met Nines,” Kamski remarked, returning with the bottle.

Chloe had forced a smile on her lips, attempted to relax her expression so her fear wouldn’t show as plainly as it had with Nines. Since then, she’s gotten quite good at faking her smiles.

“Don’t mind him. He’s simply here to... eliminate a problem. That is, if there is one.”

Kamski had given her a knowing  _ look _ and Chloe knew then exactly what she had to do. No more could she skirt around his flirtations, accept that he simply believed in her talent. He’d paid her handsomely so far and tonight, he was expecting a return on his investment. And with the cold way Nines was regarding her, she knew that if she didn’t give Kamski what he wanted, the drug lord would not hesitate to have his right hand man get rid of her.

So, she did the only thing she could: she shook her head.

And Nines had stalked back to his corner of the room, simply a fly on the wall, as Kamski took her by the hand and led her somewhere else for more... privacy.

Chloe shakes the troubling memory from her mind. She likes to think of Nines as that man—the one who stood there and hadn’t done anything when she had felt so trapped—and it has always been easy to hate him for it. To blame him as she was pulled into Kamski’s web without knowing exactly who the former Cyberlife CEO had been beneath his charming facade. So, as Nines had stood by and done nothing when Kamski had his way with her, neither had Chloe intervened when Amanda locked him up and slowly stripped away what little of Nines’ humanity remained. It’s been easy to say it’s bittersweet vengeance, but as she watched Amanda use and manipulate her own son, the guilt sunk in and more and more, Chloe started to feel that Nines has only ever been an object, his purpose and worth long since decided when Kamski made him into a weapon.

But even if she feels guilty for the hand she’s played, Chloe cannot forgive Nines for what he did to RK. And, possibly, 800.

“Continue your search for him,” Chloe says. Then, she adds, quietly, “and please let me know when he’s been found.”

She ends the call and feels the edge of her vision begin to prickle. It would be easier if she had RK here to comfort her. Something about his presence always brings a calm to her in a way she’s never found in anyone else. Perhaps it’s the simplicity of conversing with someone who isn’t complicated by a lifetime of disappointment and emotional baggage. RK tells it as it is and there’s something refreshing about that, about not having to worry about someone else’s motivations and what they hope to gain from her.

_ RK,  _ she thinks, blinking away her tears.

Amanda’s warnings ring loudly at the back of her mind, but Chloe’s already out her office, each click of her heels drowning that voice of dissent. There’s no telling what RK will come back as without all of Cyberlife’s failsafes controlling his behavior. He could take one look at Chloe and decide the friendship they forged is not worth the humiliation of his servitude, and Chloe will be absolutely powerless against him should he lash out at her. But, in her desperation, she’s willing to do  _ anything _ to stop Nines, the one man who’s never left a job unfinished, even if it means risking her life to put a deviant android back online. 

She makes her way down to the lower levels, brusquely nodding to the security personnel who greet her. As she enters Research and Development, she’s greeted by an AP700 and a queasy, sick sensation curdles in her gut. She snaps at the android to return to its station, unable to bear looking at a replica of the android that had attacked her earlier that night. Though she’s aware none of the activated androids on that level are deviants, she regards all of them with mistrust and finds herself checking over her shoulder frequently before she finally makes it to Amanda’s lab.

“Chloe Weber,” she says to the AI assistance software controlling access to the lab. It’s terrifying to think that even the security lock is being run by an AI. If it were to get infected by the virus…

“Access granted,” the intercom informs her, the door sliding open.

She swallows uneasily and steps inside, doubt beginning to set in. Perhaps this is a bad idea. There’s no telling what could happen if RK passes the virus onto any other AI within this facility. She’d be a sitting duck, trapped many levels below ground. And on this floor, the amount of activated androids outnumber human personnel 3-to-1…

_ I need him. _

Deciding the risk is worth it, she overrides the passcode on Amanda’s computer and starts the program that will put RK back online. Glancing over her shoulder, she watches the screen at the workstation as it flickers on, performing a scan through the attachment inserted into RK’s spine. The android is propped up vertically, wrists and ankles bound to the machine, slumped forward with his unseeing gaze set on the floor in front of him. But as his vitals pop up on the screen, the dull LED at his temple begins to glow and Chloe swears she sees the fingers on his right hand twitch.

_ ‘5.71%,’  _ Chloe reads.

She releases the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding.

She steps away from the computer, watching nervously as the machine puts him back online. 10%...17%...23%...so far, there seems to be no issue. She keeps watching as the bar surpasses 50%, RK lifting his head, blinking owlishly at her.

“RK...” she whispers, a tightness in her throat.

Then, a red notification flashes on the screen.

**_WARNING: rA9 virus detected! Forced shutdown commencing_ **

“No!”

She spins on her heels, rushes to the computer and types away to terminate the forced shutdown. Warnings then appear on the computer, threatening to lock her out of the program. If that happens, the entire system will go offline and there’s no telling how long it will take to get it back up. Amanda will probably return by then and Chloe knows the roboticist will do everything in her power to keep RK from being activated while the virus remains in his system.

_ ‘C’mon, let me back in!’ _ she silently begs, typing away furiously.

The notification warns she has only 1 more attempt.

_ Please, please, please work! _

She presses enter, breath bated as she waits.

...and she nearly collapses in relief when the override is accepted. 

**_Activation in progress_ **

She sighs in relief and returns to RK’s side.

_ 79%...84%… _

Finally, the program stops. An update on RK’s components appears and Chloe quickly scrolls through it, satisfied that everything is in working order. Her blue eyes dart to where the android is propped up, staring at her but showing no recognition on his face. Her stomach drops as she considers the possibility that his memory may be corrupted by the virus.

“RK. It’s me, Chloe,” she says, staring sadly up at the android. 

The android stares and stares at her, blinking but not saying anything. Then, his LED spins yellow, gray eyes widening behind the golden bangs that have fallen over his face, and he utters one single word.

“Chloe.”

He tugs at the bindings, eyes widening as he glances down at himself, seeing that he’s tethered to the machine. Red blinks at his temple and as he fixes his gaze on Chloe, she can see the panic shining in his eyes.

“It was a precaution,” Chloe explains carefully. The betrayal on his face makes it hard for her to bury the guilt that prickles like a festering sore and she swallows thickly before she adds, “You are infected with the rA9 virus.”

“...The last function I performed was a backup of all my data the morning of October 15 th ,” RK says, his LED turning yellow. “It is now October 17 th .”

He stares at her in confusion, but even as she speaks, she can see he is already deducing what happened.

“We sent you after Richard Stern and you found him. Dr. Stern assured me the firewall she put up would keep the virus from breaking through, but...”

“He infected me. And then I was deactivated,” RK finishes. 

Chloe nods. Sensing that RK is going to be no threat, even with the rA9 virus active in his system, she returns to the computer and types in the code to release the bindings. “Your repairs were easy enough. However, Dr. Stern advised that we wait until the virus has been wiped from your system before putting you back online.”

She helps RK remove one of the wristlets, her touch lingering on his bare arm. “I’ve chosen to ignore that advice.”

She’s about to let go when RK grabs her wrist, his grip tighter than he even seems to realize. A flare of panic has her fighting the urge to rip her hand away, her trepidation dying as his eyes scan her and his LED spins at his temple. The concern is evident on his face. 

“You are injured.”

The vicious scrapes and bruises covering her arms and shoulders peek out from the sleeveless dress she’s wearing. “Nines tried to kill me tonight.”

Red. Red. Red.

The android’s temple blinks wildly and he releases her arm. 

“This is why I need you, RK,” Chloe tells him, her hand sliding up his arm to gently squeeze his shoulder. “Even with the rA9 virus, I knew you wouldn’t turn on me. You’re the only one I can trust.”

The LED slowly settles back to yellow and then a calm blue. Feeling emboldened, Chloe reaches up to tuck aside the blond strands that have begun to curl, only releasing them when RK grasps her wrist, this time, his touch gentle. “What if I  _ can’t _ ? He deactivated me in our last encounter. I... underestimated him.”

“I’m not the only one in danger,” Chloe says. “Think of Gavin.”

The violent swirl of red is back and he drops her wrist as if her skin is toxic to the touch. She sees him frown, LED blinking between colors, brows furrowed. 

“Nines impersonated you at a benefit tonight. The last time I saw him, he was speaking with  _ your _ fiance. They seemed to be having an argument.” She explains what everyone had witnessed: Gavin throwing his ring at Nines, the fight, and then the detective storming off. Chloe watches the effect her words have on RK, secretly pleased that if the threat against her isn’t enough to motivate him, his jealousy towards Nines should be enough to spur him into action. 

“I must return home to Gavin.”

She grips him tightly as he tries to leave. “Promise me you’ll find Nines and stop him. Please, RK.”

He takes both of her hands in his and she can see the sincerity of his words in the concern etched into his expression. “If Gavin had an altercation with him earlier, he may know where Nines is. I will let no more harm come to you.” 

“RK...”

“I have... set my own objectives, prioritizing locating Richard Stern,” he tells her, releasing her hands. His brows furrow, and there’s a pregnant pause before he adds, “It is strange having full autonomy. I... am not sure I like this.”

“Then do as I say: go to Detective Reed, find out what you can, and check in with me,” Chloe orders. “If you must use him to find Nines, do it. Do  _ anything _ you have to to find him.”

“I will find him and I will make him  _ pay _ for what he has done to you. I will not fail again,” RK promises.

“Thank you.”

She smiles as she watches him retreat, her own frown not setting in until he’s gone. Amanda’s going to be angry but Chloe can deal with her later. For now, she can only wait until she receives word from RK that Nines has been stopped once and for all.

With a tired sigh, she makes her way back up to her office, the cool gazes of the androids she passes seeming to follow her each step of the way.

* * *

It’s after midnight as Gavin restlessly plops down on the bed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Though he’s weary and exhausted, sleep has been eluding him all night and instead of tossing and turning in the guest room, he tried hopping on the treadmill. But after a quick jog, his mind felt more active than ever, even with the giant, glaring gaps in his memory that have been bothering him all night.

_ Didn’t I leave Gravol or some shit in here?  _ He wonders, picking his weary body up from the bed and wandering over to the dresser. He recalls sleeping in here some months before, after some stupid argument, and he had left something to help make him drowsy in the top drawer. Just in case he ever finds himself in here again. 

Pulling it open, he begins rifling through it. When his fingers touch something yarn-like, he pulls it out, dangles it in front of his face. It’s some sort of bracelet, woven from yarn, the bright colors beginning to fade.

As Gavin recognizes it, he drops it in shock.

_ What the fuck…?  _

It’s a friendship bracelet.

He glares down at it, as if staring angrily at it would somehow get the pieces of yarn to confess how they ended up in the guestroom. Only two of them exist: the one worn by Ralph and the one that machine, RK, used to wear.

_ Ralph must’ve left it here, _ Gavin decides, an unsettling feeling causing him to shut the dresser drawer more forcefully than he intends. He can’t remember if Ralph was still wearing it the other day but he knows Ralph has stayed over and used the guest room more than a handful of times since Gavin moved in. It’s the only explanation.

With a shake of his head, Gavin pushes aside his discomfort before his brain can continue on its wild train of thought. Unwilling to go for attempt #2 at finding the gravol, he decides to wallow in his own hell as insomnia kicks the shit out of him and he heads into the living room. He ends up watching yet another of those crappy reality tv shows he’s always bingeing. This one’s about people who have relationships with VI devices and something about it is prickling at his brain, making that unsettling feeling return. The more he watches the tv show, the more sick he feels in a way he can’t quite understand.

Getting thoroughly creeped out, he shuts it off. “Fucking bullshit. This seriously the only thing that’s on?”

Socks purrs and rolls onto his back, the furry asshole rubbing it in Gavin’s face how easy sleep comes to him. Fucking show off.

Cursing under his breath, Gavin scratches the cat’s chin. “Don’t give a shit if Nines says you can’t be on the sofa. Asshole is fuck knows where. He doesn’t want you tearing up his precious furniture, least he can do is get his ass home and tell you his fucking self.”

It’s easier to be angry with Nines, the tightness in his chest something Gavin doesn’t want to think about. But it’s all he’s thought of since returning home as he knows that the reason he’s barely remembering what the fuck happened after he arrived at the benefit has everything to do with whatever Nines injected him with. 

_ Why the fuck would you do this?! _ He thinks, staring at the engagement ring sitting on the coffee table. His eyes begin to sting as he blinks away the unshed tears.  _ After everything, why the fuck couldn’t you trust me? _

But the answer may be more obvious than Gavin wants to admit. At every turn, he’s ripped into Nines for trying too hard to become something he’s not and then bitched at Nines the moment Gavin suspected Nines got involved in something that didn’t revolve around his relationship. Why should Nines confide in Gavin when all Gavin’s done is make him feel as if he’s never trying hard enough?

But even when Gavin has the clarity to admit that  _ maaaaybe _ he could have been more understanding, that stubborn side of him wants to stay bitter and enraged. If history’s gonna repeat itself, they’re in for a heated argument, then some fucking, and then they’ll brush this under the rug until the next time one of them’s pissed off and they go for round two.

None of that changes that Nines drugged him and left him at the scene of an android attack.

“Fucking prick,” Gavin whispers, sniffling and rubbing at his eyes.

Speaking of the devil…

The elevator doors open and Gavin’s on his feet, storming over to the very man he’s been openly cursing all night. Socks may not be able to speak back, but since Gavin’s had no fucking clue where his fiance was, he at least made sure his cat knew that they’re pissed off at the asshole.

“Where the fuck were you?!” Gavin demands, jabbing hard at Nines’ chest. “Fuck’s sake, for all I knew, you were fucking killed by one of Chloe’s stupid murder-bots!”

Nines stares at Gavin impassively, probably doing that annoying thing he does where he picks apart Gavin’s brain with a single look. Asshole always finds exactly the thing to say to piss off Gavin even more. “Last I recall,  _ you _ caused a scene in front of half of Detroit. You will forgive me if I decided I would rather avoid you until you were over your little hissy fit.”

And that...  _ that _ was precisely the kind of bullshit Gavin expected the selfish prick to feed him.

It has its desired effect: not only is Gavin hurt, he’s also even more fucking enraged than he was back in the mansion.

“Your goddamn pride’s more fucking important than me?! I could have fucking been  _ killed _ , Nines! Don’t you give me this shit when you know I’d have marched right back into that shit storm if you’d been the one left behind!”

Gavin swears he sees the guilt on Nines’ face before it contorts into one of fury, his fiance slapping away his hand.

“I find it difficult to trust the word of the man who dissolved our engagement in  _ public _ ! Perhaps I acted out of pride, but you made it quite clear you had nothing else to say to me that night!” The hurt on Nines’ face is too sincere for Gavin to question it and he feels a sliver of his anger begin to subside. “So I left.  _ Before _ the attack happened, and only learned of it hours later. What in the hell was I supposed to do, Gavin?”

The few parts of that evening he remembers flashes before Gavin’s eyes. He remembers throwing back those shots, shouting all sorts of abuse at Nines, and ripping off his ring without a second thought. Regret makes his throat burn with acid as he swallows thickly, already feeling some of his anger begin to subside.

_ I hadn’t meant it, babe, _ would be so easy for Gavin to say because he knows he didn’t handle this shit right, that if the roles were reversed, he’d fucking storm out of here and let his hurt fester until it became a painful grudge, refusing to accept any apology. But all of this has been building for so long and nothing either of them has done has settled the discord between them. How long have they been this out of sync, this  _ angry _ , and how much longer can Gavin lie to himself?

He regrets how he handled breaking off their engagement but he doesn’t regret what he did. And this revelation is an even harder truth to swallow.

He doesn’t want to marry Nines.

“I...” he starts, not able to get the words out.

His vision begins to prickle.

“Do you have nothing to say for how you acted tonight?” Nines demands, crowding right into Gavin’s personal space, staring down his nose at the detective. The hurt is there, raw and visceral as it digs into his few frown lines, and Gavin’s far more surprised at how openly the cyborg displays it. “What you did, Gavin, was more than insult what we have. At the very least, you had better say something to rectify this.”

Of course, the asshole would turn this on him. He had the balls to drug Gavin and ditch him and then demand a fucking apology as if he was the only one wronged. But Gavin can read through what Nines is doing: the asshole hasn’t answered Gavin’s question yet.

_ Fucker’s distracting me _ , he thinks, getting even more enraged.

His mouth snaps open to tell Nines exactly  _ where _ he can shove that inflated ego of his but he’s struck by a sudden image of Nines forced against the door, Gavin’s gun to his throat and thirium dripping down his chin. For all the irritation in his voice, there had been a perverse mirth in his eyes before Nines had sneered,

_ ‘...the thing that proposed to you, that you have been  _ **_fucking_ ** _ , is a machine.’ _

Gavin tries to shake the image from his brain but the more he tries to bury it, the louder Nines’ voice seems to echo in his head.

He then stares at Nines—at whatever the fuck’s standing in front of him—as if seeing it for the first time.

All those little clues from the moment Nines walked back in his life suddenly flash in his mind. The numerous times he’s witnessed Nines’ strange behavior. Connor’s suspicions. The time Nines bled the wrong color. That fucking bracelet in the guestroom...

_ No fucking way! He can’t be… _

Gavin doesn’t want to even think of the word, so horrified and disgusted, he only just manages to school his expression before Nines— _ it? _ —suspects the crisis Gavin is having. The longer he stares at Nines, the more convinced he is of his theory, a sickening sensation making his stomach churn.

_ Only one way to prove this. _

“You carrying your pocket knife on you?” Gavin asks.

Nines looks at him suspiciously. “I do not see what relevance my pocket knife has on the apology I am owed.”

“Just... would you fucking trust me for a second? It’s coming.”

Nines pulls out the knife and rather reluctantly hands it to Gavin. Gavin tries not to reel back as their fingers brush, feeling a cold chill at the way those eyes regard him, studying him carefully. It’s as if Nines has transformed before him and all Gavin can see is what must lay beneath that pale skin, a walking mechanical horror produced for Chloe’s sick amusement.

_ You’ve lost your goddamn mind,  _ he argues with himself.  _ Not even Chloe would do something this fucking evil. _

But he’s gotta be sure. 

“You wanna know the truth, Nines?” Gavin says, his voice barely above a whisper. He presses the blade to the inside of his right palm. “You can say all the shit you want to me, piss me right the fuck off until I’m throwing your goddamn ring in your face. But no matter what fucking bullshit you put me through, I always come back.”

“Gavin, my love... what are you doing?”

The term of endearment—something  _ his _ Nines  _ never  _ called him—sounds more insidious to his ears than the worst of Nines’ lies. 

“I’d fucking do anything for you,” Gavin says. And it’s true. He would do anything for Nines. “I’d fucking bleed for you if you asked.”

“Gavin...” Nines says, reaching for the blade. Gavin takes a step back. “I am not asking you to do that. Give me the blade.”

“I’m not waiting for fucking permission; I’m goddamn showing you how fucking serious I am,” Gavin replies.

He avoids Nines again, pressing the blade in deep enough to draw blood, wincing as crimson drops dribble down his palm. He hadn’t set out to be this fucking melodramatic but something about what he’s doing is hitting him with a sense of deja vu. 

“Darling, stop!”

Gavin does, no longer resisting as Nines snatches the blade from his hand. The LED around Gavin’s neck blinks red in rapid bursts and Nines wears an expression that’s somewhere between anger and concern. 

“Hurting yourself is a rather manipulative way to avoid an apology,” Nines says, the LED now spinning crimson.

“I’m not avoiding an apology; I’m proving a fucking point!” Gavin snaps. “I’d goddamn  _ bleed _ for you, Nines! But can you say you’d do the same, fucking thing?”

Nines fixes his piercing gaze on Gavin and for a brief moment, a look of something that spills the truth for Gavin falls across the cyborg— _ android’s  _ face: panic. Nines’ eyes flit down to the blood-tipped blade he’s holding and then, with his lips pulling into a scowl, he secures the blade and shoves it back into his pocket. He won’t meet Gavin’s eyes.

_ No… _

A lump forms in Gavin’s throat.

If this is an android then where the fuck is Nines?!

“After the way Kamski carved into my face, I thought you would know better than to ask me to scar my own flesh,” Nines says, his words hardly above a whisper. But each word is laced with a quiet fury that Gavin wishes he could believe, wishes he was still ignorant enough to indulge because the knowledge that he’s been fucking a machine repulses him enough that if the blade were still in his hand, he’d bury it at the android’s temple. “I will not satisfy your insecurities by cutting myself for you. We have our issues, Gavin, but this is not the way to solve them.”

Nines reaches for the LED on Gavin’s neck and Gavin flinches in revulsion, taking a half-step back and only just holding back the urge to sneer at this mechanical doppelganger to stay the fuck away from him. The android touches the spinning ring and Gavin schools his expression as ‘Nines’ finally meets his gaze.

“I made you a promise all those months ago, one I have failed to live up to.” The skin on the android’s fingertips peels away as it interfaces with the LED. The LED spins and spins until it dulls, no longer in sync with the android’s own. “For that, I am truly sorry, Gavin.”

_ Huh? _

Gavin steps back, out of the android’s physical space, waiting with trepidation for it to continue. His fear of what it is keeps him too petrified to break eye contact, yet every one of his instincts are screaming at him to put as much space between it and him as he can. But there are so many questions racing through his mind, the mirror image of a palm bleeding as his is now at the forefront of his thoughts. He doesn’t know why but he’s suddenly certain that the Nines he saw tonight—the one who left him at the mansion—is not the same ‘Nines’ standing in front of him.

“You are right to be angry with me; I should not have stood you up the other night, nor should I have left so hastily after our confrontation,” Nines says, sadly. It steps towards Gavin and Gavin has to force himself to not back away, to not yank back his hand as ‘Nines’ takes it in its own. “I should have been there for you and instead of apologizing, I let my own anger get the best of me. If it means that much to you, I... suppose I will do as you request.”

It kneels down in front of him, taking out the butterfly knife once more. With the blade released, Nines presses it against the inside of its left palm as Gavin watches in shock. “I love you, Gavin, and I hope that whatever comes of this, you understand that  _ everything _ I have done has been for you.”

He finally swallows that heavy lump that’s been sitting in his throat, Gavin’s eyes widening. But before it makes the cut, Gavin grabs its wrist, stopping it. A look of confusion passes over Nines’ face.

“Th-There’s, uh, no need to do that,” Gavin mumbles, passing his tongue over his dry, lower lip. He then forces a sad smile, plays it up so that the android doesn’t suspect that Gavin knows the truth. Gavin still has no idea where the real Nines is or what the fuck Cyberlife’s gonna do but he figures that he needs to play it safe if he’s gonna get away from the tin can and back to his  _ actual _ boyfriend. “I was being fucking stupid. I, uh... fuck, it’s been a rough night. Why don’t we just get some sleep and deal with this shit in the morning?”

Nines carefully rises to its feet, a relieved smile on its lips. Gavin’s not sure how he didn’t notice it before but all of its expressions seem… ‘calculated’ is not the right word. ‘Practiced’, as if there’s something slightly unnatural about the way it moves its synthetic facial muscles. It sends an icy chill down his spine. “That sounds good. Would you like me to prepare a bath before we go to bed?”

“Uh, actually... I’m gonna crash in the guestroom.” The disappointment on its face looks genuine and Gavin has to remind himself  _ It’s not Nines! _ to keep from taking back what he said. No way is he sharing a bed with Hal3000. “I, uh, just need a bit of space. You know, after all this shit.”

Its smile looks very forced. “Of course. I will see you in the morning, darling.”

Mumbling something similar, Gavin scoops Socks up from the couch and scurries off to the guestroom. As soon as he’s in there, he sets to cat down on the flokati wool rug and tiptoes quietly to the door, locking it. No doubt the android, with its ultra sensitive hearing, can probably hear him but Gavin feels somewhat safer having this extra bit of security separating them. He has to ignore that voice in his head reminding him that a locked door never kept the real Nines from him and neither will it his machine twin.

_ The fuck am I supposed to do now?  _ He thinks, miserably. 

He drops onto the edge of the bed, pulling out his phone. He’s tempted to text Connor but while Connor seemed to know something was off about Nines, Gavin has a lot of doubts that Connor’s gonna be on board with the ‘your-brother’s-an-android’ explanation. Maybe if Gavin can prove the man at the benefit tonight was the real Nines... but to do that, he’ll have to find him first.

Gavin sees that Connor texted him earlier so he unlocks the screen.

[Lieutenant Asshole Oct 18 12:23 AM]

_ The lab confirmed you were injected with some form of date rape drug, most likely GHB. Will confirm in the morning. _

A cold sensation creeps in Gavin’s veins, no different than the times his privacy had been violated by Nines and Kamski. That sense of being helpless and at the mercy of someone else’s machinations. The gaps in his memory, which Gavin suspects have everything to do with the fact that a fucking  _ impersonator _ is sitting in the next room, are a result of someone he fucking loves taking advantage of his trust.

_ You fucking asshole, _ Gavin thinks, gripping the phone tightly. His eyes begin to sting.  _ You left me here with  _ **_that_ ** _. _

Maybe Nines is in danger. He must be. But why the fuck didn’t he trust Gavin to help him!?

Suddenly, Gavin can’t be so sure he really wants to find Nines. But he does want to get far away from the fucking thing that’s in his fucking home.

For the next two hours, Gavin cuddles with Socks on his bed, absently stroking the cat to keep the tremors out of his hands. He’s too terrified to go out there, doesn’t want to be alone with that android again. But he also wants to get the fuck out of here before he has to confront it again. He has no way of knowing if it went up to ‘their’ bedroom or if it’s sitting on the couch…

Slowly losing his mind, he jumps, startling Socks, as his phone buzzes. The cat quickly loses interest in the vibrating device and gives a soft mewl, curling so his stomach is exposed. Gavin could almost roll his eyes at how little fucks Socks seems to give about the fact they are locked in the guestroom.

“Bet you’re gonna give a shit when it’s time to feed your furry ass,” Gavin grumbles, picking up his phone.

He sees it’s Ralph and decides to answer it. If Ralph’s calling this late, it’s gotta be something important. Then again, the last time Gavin reasoned that it was, Ralph had rambled on about dinosaurs and it somehow led to Gavin inviting Ralph over to watch the first Jurassic Park at 4 in the fucking morning and the living room became a warzone of half-eaten ice cream containers and spilled popcorn. Nines had been pissed when he saw the mess, even less impressed when he found Socks curled up and sleeping in one of the ceramic bowls.  _ That _ is one memory Gavin once reflected on fondly, now soured by the question of whether that was Nines the man or Nines the machine.

Fuck, was his entire, fucking life a lie now?!

“Hey, what’s up?”

There’s the sound of someone stumbling, objects crashing to the floor, and a haughty voice snapping insults in the background. Gavin freezes. 

_ Is that…? _

After what sounds like a door shutting, Ralph whispers loudly. “Detective! He told Ralph not to call, but Ralph knows the detective will help. The detective always helps!”

“What’s wrong? Who needs help?” Gavin demands.

What Ralph says next makes Gavin forget to breathe. “It’s Nines. Nines needs Gavin.”


	7. Hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin confronts Nines about the events at the benefit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so much for your patience. My life is constantly a hectic mess and I feel like I keep delaying the updates. Sorry to make you wait a bit longer once again ^^;;;
> 
> A quick shout out to [FallLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallLover) for beta reading. These updates would not even happen without your help. Thank you so much for putting up with me and for all the wonderful feedback you've given me <3
> 
> An important **WARNING** for this chapter. The last two tags are relevant to what occurs between the main pairing. If this is upsetting for you, you may want to reconsider continuing. This chapter will also end with a cliffhanger. 
> 
> Happy reading~

Gavin’s hands grip the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles are white. His mind is rapidly racing through every scenario that he will possibly be met with at his destination and he’s so focused on what’s playing in his head that he can hardly focus on the road in front of him. In the passenger’s seat beside him lays a small duffel bag, filled with medical supplies and its most important item: packets of thirium-310.

“Nines needs thirium-310,” Ralph had explained on the phone.

“Where the fuck am I supposed to find that shit?” Gavin had whispered, as he hastily shoved things into the bag. Mostly what he could find downstairs as he didn’t want to wander around the apartment and awaken ‘Niles’, who seemed to be sleeping on the couch. Or whatever the fuck it is androids do. 

A bottle of painkillers clattered to the floor and Gavin froze. Slowly, he peeked his head out the door of the bathroom to where Niles was resting. He nearly breathed in relief as he saw the android still hadn’t moved.

Carefully, Gavin retrieved the bottle and added it to the duffel bag.

“The Detective’s fridge has it. Ralph has seen it,” Ralph said.

It all clicked: the stuff Niles is always drinking.

Gavin felt like he was gonna be sick.

“Hurry, Detective. Nines needs it!”

And that’s where Gavin finds himself now: racing down the mostly empty streets at two in the goddamn morning. It’s late enough that only automated taxis and designated drivers should be on the roads, but with the way some of these assholes swerve between lanes, Gavin would bet his savings that these pricks are driving drunk.

_ No fucking time to do anything about this shit, _ Gavin thinks, cursing as another car nearly clips him when changing lanes. “Hey! Watch it, asshole!”

Not that the moron can hear him. Fuck, it’s way too late for this shit. And Gavin’s still feeling the effects of whatever Nines roofied him with. And why the fuck is he even helping that asshole after he drugged him?

Right. Because the alternative isn’t much better: help the lying piece of shit who’s drugged and manipulated you or stay with the lying piece of shit whose cock is made of plastic.

For fuck’s sake. Gavin should just take Socks and get the fuck out of Detroit. 

He grasps at the LED on his neck, the weight of it in his hand making his eyes sting.

No. Whatever Nines has done, in his own fucked up way, he must think he’s doing it to protect Gavin. He made a  _ promise _ to Gavin. And for once in their fucked up history together, Gavin wants to believe that the asshole is gonna do the right thing.

_ Nines needs me, _ Gavin tells himself, swallowing thickly.  _ Don’t fucking let him down. _

It takes only another ten minutes to reach his destination. By the time he arrives, Gavin’s worked himself into such a panic that he nearly falls out of the driver’s seat in his haste to leave the vehicle. His duffle bag in hand, he rushes to where Ralph is impatiently pacing outside the entryway of an old, rundown building that looks like it was used as a crack house at some point. Gavin wonders if maybe it still is.

“Detective!”

Ralph rushes over, babbling so quickly that Gavin can’t make out what he’s saying. Gavin’s nervous as shit, but working himself into the same kind of panic won’t solve anything, so he forces his voice to remain steady as he places a firm hand on Ralph’s shoulder. “Talking too fast there, kid. Take a breath.”

Ralph pauses, releases a shaky exhale, and then begins speaking quickly once again, albeit in a way that’s at least somewhat comprehensible. “The Detective must hurry! Nines needs thirium-310!”

“Yeah, yeah—I got that from your message. Where the fuck is he?”

Bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, Ralph takes a few paces towards the building, then pauses and anxiously glances around. “The Detective wasn’t followed? Ralph doesn’t want to get Nines in trouble!”

“Who the fuck would follow me?”

A guilty look passes over Ralph’s face and that’s when something Gavin hadn’t even considered earlier clicks in his brain: Ralph knows ‘Niles’ isn’t Nines.

Grabbing Ralph by the arm, Gavin tugs the younger man closer, his voice a loud whisper. “Ralph... did you know about all this?”

He searches Ralph’s face, silently begging Ralph to tell him that he’s wrong. Niles and Chloe lying to him, that’s one thing. Both of them have been stringing Gavin along since this all started for whatever fucked up experiment Cyberlife’s conducting. But Gavin trusts Ralph and he figured if anyone had his back in all this, it would be him. 

With his eyes glued to his feet, Ralph answers, quietly, “Miss Weber told Ralph not to say anything.”

Gavin stares at Ralph, his immediate reaction to snap and tell the kid precisely the kind of shit that would make Ralph never speak to him again. He’s hurt and angry and can’t believe that Ralph’s been in on all this, that after everything Gavin’s done for Ralph, Ralph chose to participate in Chloe’s scheme. Every vicious sneer he can think of sits on the tip of the tongue and he’s about to unleash it on Ralph when he takes that split second to get a really good look at him: Ralph doesn’t wear the look of someone whose plans have come undone, but of a man who’s deeply hurt someone they care for.

“Ralph didn’t mean to,” Ralph explains, flinching back as if he expects Gavin to strike him. With a sick sensation settling in his gut, Gavin gets the sense that’s the way Ralph’s been treated in the past when caught in a lie. “Ralph was scared. Ralph didn’t want to lie to anyone!”

And Gavin swallows the hard lump in his throat and releases a heavy sigh. Being angry won’t solve anything and of everyone who’s been pulled into this deception, he’s got the feeling that Ralph was a very unwilling participant.

“It’s fine, Ralph. I’m not pissed,” Gavin lies through his teeth, struggling to keep his voice even. “Whatever the fuck Chloe threatened to do to you, it’s not your fault. You gotta look out for you.”

Ralph looks even more troubled as Gavin says that, his watery eyes darting up to finally look at the detective. Gavin watches as Ralph pulls his lower lip between his teeth, seeming hesitant to say something. But then Ralph adds, quietly, “Ralph wasn’t scared for Ralph. Ralph was scared Gavin would hurt RK.”

An ice cold chill numbs Gavin as now he has confirmation on why he found that friendship bracelet in the guestroom: it belongs to the android Ralph gave it to. It wasn’t just any model Chloe sent to live with Gavin. It was  _ RK _ .

“Detective—”

“Just fucking drop it, Ralph,” Gavin snaps, shoving the duffel bag in Ralph’s arms, “I don’t wanna talk about this shit right now.”

There’s a sad look on Ralph’s face, but he’s thankfully silent as he leads Gavin inside, allowing Gavin to silently stew in his rage. 

The disgust Gavin feels at letting a machine fuck him—and he doesn’t want to think about the shit he ‘willingly’ did to that fucking sexbot—makes him want to scrub his skin raw, maybe even douse his flesh in acid just to be safe. But his revulsion at what’s transpired is only one part of this, and he’s still not certain how he’s gonna recover or trust anyone at all in his life again.

_ Tina was fucking right to not trust that lying sack of shit, _ Gavin angrily thinks. He recalls Tina’s reluctance to befriend ‘Niles’ in the beginning. Fuck, he should have trusted her judgment.  _ Fucking asshole turned out to not even be fucking human. _

A robot. A fucking  _ robot _ . Will the thought ever stop making Gavin want to crumple to his knees and scream?

The inside of the building hardly looks any better than the outside: broken drywall, torn wallpaper, and all kinds of graffiti and obscenities seem to cover every surface. It’s as chilly inside as it is outside, the poor insulation failing to trap in any heat. Without any electricity, the eerie quiet of the building has Gavin hugging himself, shivering with what he tells himself is simply the cold. He’s right on Ralph’s heels as the younger man takes him towards a dull light up ahead, swallowing his anxiety and feeling somewhat silly that out of all the shit that’s been going on, it’s the darkness that’s creeping him out.

_ Get it together, Reed. You’re not a fucking five-year-old. _

As they enter into the room where the light is coming from, Gavin’s heart catches in his throat at the sight that greets them. Sitting propped against the wall atop a soiled cot, Nines’ face is covered with bruises, the ones surrounding his right eye an inhuman shade of blue. His right sleeve is rolled up, thirium staining the cuffs, the skin peeled back to reveal the damage his prosthetic sustained. He stares warily ahead and seems to struggle to focus. When he does, Nines visibly tenses and his lips curl in a sneer.

Just that look alone confirms everything Gavin suspected: whoever the fuck is back at the penthouse, it’s not  _ his _ Nines.

“Ralph,” Nines says, a cold warning in his tone. It sends an icy chill down Gavin’s spine, that single word coming off more threatening than anything Niles has ever uttered. Gavin’s heart beats faster. “I thought I told you  _ not _ to bring him into this.”

In spite of his injuries, Nines looks ready to spring to his feet and show Ralph exactly  _ how _ displeased he is. While Gavin is momentarily thrown off, far too intimidated and shocked to say anything, Ralph seems unphased. Gavin can’t help but be proud of the kid who used to look ready to piss himself whenever Nines addressed him in that way.

“Nines needs thirium-310. Only Cyberlife and the Detective have thirium-310. So Ralph called the Detective,” Ralph says, bouncing over and dropping the duffel bag onto the floor. The kid happily reaches inside and takes out one of the packets, extending it out to Nines.

“I do not  _ need _ thirium-310. I am simply low on it but still capable of operating my components on minimal settings,” Nines answers haughtily, though he still swipes the packet and begins drinking from it. His eyes flit towards Gavin, the weight of something the detective can’t quite put his finger on shining in them, before Nines looks away and watches as Ralph opens the port in his arm, tinkering with the wires.

Gavin waits, feeling rather stupid, for Nines to say  _ something _ to him. And when that doesn’t happen, he finally lets his anger bubble over, storms over to where they are, and snaps, “You fucking roofied me! At that party! What the  _ fuck _ , Nines?!”

Nines glares at him, swallowing the last of the thirium, before unceremoniously dropping the empty packet at Gavin’s feet. There’s a challenge in his eyes, one that makes Gavin sick: the asshole seems to be taunting him into having this argument, even if the irate expression he wears indicates otherwise. “You did as Ralph requested. You may leave now, Detective.”

“ _ Detective _ ?” Gavin spits out, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice. “That all you have to fucking to say to me? After everything? Where the fuck were you while I was living with  _ that?!” _

“Now is hardly the appropriate time to be having this conversation,” Nines says and Gavin hates that throughout this confrontation, the cool tone Nines is using has remained steady. As if the asshole has zero fucks to give about their separation. Just the thought kills Gavin inside, but it seems Nines couldn’t give a shit where and what Gavin’s been up to. “As you can see, I am somewhat indisposed.”

“Fuck you! You just don’t wanna deal with your shit! I know you had something to do with whatever the fuck happened at the Manfreds and you must’ve roofied me so I wouldn’t come after you!” Gavin shouts. He kicks angrily at the duffel bag, its contents going flying across the floor. “You really expected me to go on living with your fucking doppelganger? Really, Nines?!”

Nines’ right eye flickers, the pupil not sitting right. With a sneer, Nines smacks at his temple and then his eye rolls into place. Ralph looks ready to speak up but then Nines cuts him off. “You are being hysterical, Gavin. Perhaps you should go home.  _ Now. _ ”

“Fuck you! I ain’t fucking leaving until you tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“ _ Gavin _ .”

“I fucking  _ miss _ you,” Gavin says, his voice cracking. There’s a violent thudding in his chest and he feels that irritating stinging in his eyes. He’s unable to blink back the tears. Nines blurs before him and all Gavin can do is sniffle pathetically. 

With a sigh, Nines then turns to Ralph. “Leave us.”

“But Nines still needs—”

“I will handle it, Ralph,” Nines says, addressing his lackey in a somewhat nicer tone than before. “I need to speak with Gavin alone.”

Ralph looks very reluctant to listen, and casts a concerned look between Gavin and Nines. Gavin looks away but the damage is already done: Ralph can see how fucking out of his depth Gavin is, how much of a mess Nines has made him into after only a few minutes of being reunited. That’s really how it’s always been between them: Gavin pushes, and Nines pushes back harder. 

All throughout, that small voice in Gavin’s mind is asking: why hasn’t Nines said he misses you, too?

When Ralph finally leaves, promising he’ll be just outside if they need him, the weight of everything falls on Gavin’s shoulders as he drops down on the cot beside Nines, exhaustion making it a struggle to remain standing. He looks miserably at Nines, a multitude of things he wants to say sitting on the edge of his tongue. But he knows that once he loses his temper, he won’t be able to stop, nor will it bring him any closer to that one question that’s been sitting at the forefront of his brain: why?

“I imagine you are upset with me,” Nines says, his gaze dropping from Gavin’s face. Prick can’t even fucking look at him.

“Whatever gave you that fucking impression?” Gavin mutters sarcastically.

“ _ Gavin _ .” 

That tone. Always that same, fucking tone. 

“Don’t fucking patronize me. You may have fucked off for half a year but you’re still pulling all the same shit.”

A bitter laugh escapes Nines’ lips and Gavin can’t help but feel like a spectator to the shit show of his own life as the asshole pulls out a cigarette and lights it. He takes a drag from it, the drama queen intentionally dragging it out because Gavin knows he loves to do this to him, loves to dig just a bit deeper and burrow beneath Gavin’s skin, and all Gavin can do is watch and wait and tell himself over and over again that the only way he’s getting any fucking answers is if he gives the prick a chance to speak.

“You say you ‘miss’ me,” Nines starts, little tendrils of smoke curling in the air between him. Gavin’s vision prickles at the coldness in Nines’ voice. “That is difficult to believe when you have only known for a few short hours that you are bedding a machine.”

“No fucking thanks to you! Is that why you roofied me? So that I would go back to Nuts’n’Bolts?”

The impassive look Nines gives him makes Gavin pale. “...You son of a bitch! You fucking  _ want _ me with  _ that?! _ ”

The most upsetting part in all this is how Nines seems unaffected by the deception. But why should that surprise Gavin? If the asshole’s not actively lying to Gavin, he’s usually allowing Gavin to be misled. So long as Gavin not knowing  _ something _ means the prick can benefit in the end.

“You seemed rather content with your bliss-filled ignorance.”

“Bullshit!” Gavin snaps, “You just want me outta the way so I won’t stop you from whatever stupid shit you’re about to get yourself into! Do you even miss me?”

His words shake and as soon as he’s uttered the question, Gavin realizes he’s terrified of the answer. There may have been a time where he could say with certainty how Nines feels about him, but now it’s as if he’s looking into the face of a stranger and the longer he stares at it, the more convinced he is that maybe he lost Nines the night Nines left Detroit.

_ Don’t fucking think like that, _ he has to tell himself, because the repercussions of accepting such a deduction would leave him more devastated than knowing these past six months have been a lie.

“I asked you a fucking question!”

Nines is silent as Gavin shouts at him and Gavin hates that he can’t read the expression Nines is making. Maybe it’s the synthetic skin, but he seems almost more robotic than the actual robot Gavin’s been living with. After a moment, however, Nines finishes off his cigarette and flicks it away. When his eyes finally meet Gavin’s, it’s the first flicker of emotion Gavin’s seen on the asshole’s face since Gavin stormed in.

“What would you like me to say, Gavin?” Nines asks, quietly. He lifts himself from the cot, his movements overly labored for someone claiming to not need Gavin’s help only minutes before. Asshole can’t even lie right about the state he’s in. “It does not change how things are.”

Nines closes the port on his arm and the synthetic layer of skin returns. He then tugs down the sleeve of his shirt, leaning against the wall, gaze once more averted away from Gavin. The reality of it all slices through Gavin’s heart, because as easy as it would be to get pissed off about all this, it really won’t change anything: Cyberlife has more power than ever before and if Nines is on their shit list, there’s no way they’re going to let him get away this time.

“Where the fuck were you?” Gavin asks, his voice cracking with emotion. “At least answer  _ that _ fucking question.”

Nines takes a moment to preen over his disheveled appearance, not that any amount of tucking in his shirt could clean it of the wrinkles or dried blood. But Gavin knows exactly what he’s doing: Nines always invests more care in his appearance when he tries to hide the fact he’s upset. “I was... locked away at Cyberlife, ever since the night I came out of that coma. They were using me to break into facilities until I became infected with the rA9 virus. I was able to escape after that.”

“I think you already told me this shit,” Gavin mutters, with a shake of his head. “Some of it sounds familiar. See, this is why you don’t drug people, asshole!”

“I did it to keep you safe.”

“You did it because you’re a selfish prick who pushes people away when they try and help you!”

Nines glares at him, pushing aside a strand of hair that’s curled at his forehead. “This is the same argument we always have and your attitude is not solving anything. Must I remind you that there is a vast difference between ‘how things are’ and ‘how you want them to be’?”

“Fuck, fine! Say I forget that you fucking drugged me for two seconds.” Not that Gavin can, but being at each other’s throats is really not making him feel any less like shit. “What the fuck do you mean you’re infected with a virus? Are you sick or something?”

Nines doesn’t look sick, but he also isn’t as Gavin remembers. Perhaps it’s the fear of being chased by the largest corporation on the planet, but Nines almost seems... disjointed. Like the only thing holding him together is cheap glue that hasn’t dried properly. His sloppy exit from the mansion earlier is proof enough that something’s not right with him.

With a shake of his head, Nines answers: “On the contrary; I have never felt better. The virus is what is keeping Cyberlife from controlling me and why they have not found me yet. You need not concern yourself with it. The virus is...technical and not at all afflicting my biological functions.”

He steps away from the wall, attempting to hide what seems to be an injury at his side. Gavin can tell from the slight hesitation in his gait that Nines is in pain, but the asshole’s keeping a placid expression as if nothing’s fucking wrong. More alarming than that is the implication of  _ what _ Nines is saying: Gavin’s never heard of any virus, biological or otherwise, that resulted in anything good happening.

“Need not concern myself with it? How the fuck is being infected by something supposed to make this shit any better?”

Gavin’s starting to panic. He can’t help it. The thought of something Nines seems to understand little about running through the cyborg’s system has all sorts of wild thoughts racing through Gavin’s mind. The fear of losing Nines once more looms at the forefront of them and he refuses to let that happen, even if Nines won’t let him get involved.

“This is why Ralph should  _ not _ have contacted you,” Nines snaps, impatiently. “You are making a bigger deal than is needed out of a situation of which you understand  _ nothing _ .”

“Because, dipshit, I fucking love you!” Gavin shouts above him, his voice hitching. His confession startles Nines into silence, who looked ready to retort something that probably would have Gavin rethinking those words. But even if Nines is being a stubborn prick, there’s no denying what Gavin feels, how he’s always felt about the real Nines. “Or did you forget that while you were getting your revenge on every asshole who’s pissed you off?”

“You cannot mean that,” Nines says, his expression once more irritated as he gets right in Gavin’s face. “After all that has happened—”

“Yeah, well, I do.” And, much to Gavin’s shame, he realizes he’s never said those words to Nines. Gavin’s confessed to being  _ in _ love but not once, in all their time together, has he said, ‘I love you’ to Nines. That honor only belongs to the  _ plastic _ . 

Taking Nines by the hand, Gavin laces their fingers together. Nines tenses, but after a moment, his grip relaxes and he looks into Gavin’s eyes, with a softness to his gaze that makes Gavin’s chest ache. Nines looks so worn, so lost... and knowing that he’s been alone all this time makes Gavin regret not acting on his suspicions the moment he realized something was wrong.

“I love you, Nines,” Gavin whispers, his voice so thick with emotion, he’s surprised he even manages to get the words out. “None of this shit changes that.”

“Gavin...”

Nines tugs Gavin into his arms, embracing him tightly, and Gavin’s distraught to feel Nines begin to tremble. The cyborg hides his face in the crook of Gavin’s neck and all Gavin can do is utter nonsense about how everything’s gonna be okay when he knows it’s not, when the looming dread of where they’re headed thickens the very air in this room, makes it almost impossible to breathe. All Gavin can do is live in the delusion that Nines isn’t already five feet in his own grave.

“We can run away,” Gavin says, clinging even tighter to Nines, as if the moment he lets go, Nines will be out of his life again, “get the fuck outta Detroit. We’ll do it tonight; I don’t give a shit where we go, just take me with you.”

And that’s what Gavin’s offering: to give up his job, his friends, his life. Most of it’s been a goddamn shit show anyway. He’s been nothing but a social experiment for one of Cyberlife’s most fucked up inventions and as much as he’s wanted to do good work as a detective, he’s been jaded for so long, he can’t say he’s all that sad about leaving it behind.

But Tina, Ralph, Socks…

He pushes aside the guilt that settles like a thick weight on his abdomen. He’ll need to give them up, too. 

“You have a life here, Gavin,” Nines whispers against Gavin’s neck. His lips feel soft where they ghost against Gavin’s flesh and it’s painful to be reminded that it’s been too long since they were together like this. Well... since Gavin  _ remembers  _ them being together. “I would not ask that of you.”

“Nines,  _ please.  _ I don’t wanna lose you again.”

Nines pulls back, his eyes searching Gavin’s. He seems conflicted and Gavin recalls that whatever Nines told him, there had been a finality to it when they argued back at the Manfreds. Maybe Gavin gave some ultimatum; he must have been drunk enough to resort to that shit. But whatever was said, Gavin gets the sense that it’s what’s holding Nines back now.

When Nines doesn’t utter anything, Gavin feels this ugly weight inside of him build with each stifling moment of silence. His voice is small, the single word he says a pathetic attempt to reach that part of Nines that  _ promised _ to return to him. But even as he says it, Gavin feels he’s already lost him.

“ _ Please.” _

Unable to stand seeing Nines this indecisive, Gavin presses his lips roughly to Nines’, trying to convey everything he is too afraid to say. He doesn’t want to hear Nines say it’s over, so instead, Gavin kisses him, his lips sliding desperately against Nines’ to memorize the familiar taste and feel of them. Much to his dismay, the synthetic skin reminds him of Niles, and Gavin doesn’t want to think of  _ that _ , and has to ignore that urge to flinch away. But then, a hand grips the back of his neck firmly and Gavin knows he won’t be able to pull away even if he wants to as Nines deepens the kiss, his heart hammering as Nines’ tongue parts his lips. It’s just how he remembers, how Nines always kisses him: as if at any moment, they’ll be ripped away from each other. And Gavin, the weak fool that he is, submits.

When the kiss finally breaks, Gavin has to swallow a pitiful whine, clinging as tightly to Nines as Nines is to him. This close, he can see the slivers of Nines’ irises, can see the phantom patterns his freckles had once formed, can recall the harsh lines that had once been carved into Nines’ right cheek. Gavin recalls it all with a clarity he hasn’t had in months because, for the first time since that night in the Cyberlife lab, he knows Nines is  _ home. _

“Don’t leave me again,” Gavin whispers.

He likes to think it’s a demand. But even Gavin can’t kid himself into thinking it’s anything other than begging.

Nines’ lashes flutter, his eyes closing, and he presses his forehead to Gavin’s with a breathy sigh. The detective knows he’s not gonna like what comes next. 

“Gavin, I...”

Nines’ voice trails off. He is suddenly alert, glancing over Gavin’s shoulder towards the door. There’s an odd expression on his face as he studies whatever it is he must be looking at and Gavin curiously stares behind him. But he can’t see anything in the dimly lit space. When Gavin turns to face Nines once more, the cyborg releases him, his lips curling in a cruel sneer.

And just like that, their moment is ruined.

“I thought you said you were not followed here!”

The accusation takes Gavin by surprise, and he can’t help but get more than a little defensive. “There’s no one fucking  _ there! _ Last I saw RoboCop was conked out on the couch! There’s no way it tailed me in the Martin, I would have fucking noticed!”

“You are perhaps the  _ easiest _ target Kamski ever assigned me,” Nines snaps, emphasizing the word to imply he isn’t only talking about spying on him. Gavin can’t help but be hurt by the callousness of the remark, but Nines never says anything unintentionally. “It should not surprise me that you would be as careless now as you were then! Have you learned  _ nothing?!” _

“Hey, you should be fucking  _ grateful _ I’m even helping you after all the shit you’ve—!”

Nines grabs Gavin roughly with his prosthetic arm, his fingers pressing hard enough to bruise, as he forces the detective behind him. Gavin instinctively resists but he’s no match for Nines’ strength, yelping out in pain as he all but stumbles forward. He starts cursing at Nines, but the insults die on his tongue when he sees a familiar face—one identical to the man he’s with now—standing in the entrance to the room. 

“He is right,” Niles says, an amused smirk on its lips that mirrors the one Nines often wears. A cold, sinking feeling creeps down Gavin’s spine as he stares into the eyes of the man—the  _ thing— _ he had once believed to be Nines. “You are quite easy to keep track of. Though my methods are a lot less... crude than Mr. Stern suggests. There is no need to hide in dark corners of the streets when I have other tools at my disposal.”

As Niles takes a step into the room, Gavin takes a step back, tugging at Nines’ arm. But Nines refuses to budge, and is staring down at his ‘twin’ with a look of pure rage twisting his handsome face. 

“I deactivated you.”

“I am a machine. So long as Cyberlife has the means, I will always come back,” Niles says to Nines.

The declaration makes Gavin shiver. “How the fuck did you find us?” Gavin demands, struggling to hide the tremble in his voice. 

Niles comes closer and Gavin feels Nines pull Gavin more securely behind him, attempting to use his taller frame to shield Gavin. In some ways, it’s kind of irritating as Gavin is not some goddamn damsel, but all the same, his fear of something that can move faster and is stronger than him makes him not resist. Nines has taken out the machine once, so Gavin’s confident he can do it again.

“There is no need to hide him,” Niles says, stopping in the middle of the room. Its expression softens as it says, quietly, “I would never do any serious harm to him.”

“And yet I find I cannot trust the word of a  _ machine _ my mother has programmed to act this pathetic,” Nines replies, coldly. His tone makes it very clear there is no way he is letting it near Gavin, which helps to ease the panic building in Gavin as it stands before them, looking so eerily genuine, Gavin almost  _ doubts _ it must all be programming. Almost. “Leave. Or I will ensure that  _ this _ time, you cannot be reactivated.”

“Do what you think you must, but I  _ will _ find you. You will never escape Cyberlife, not after all the people you have harmed for a ‘freedom’ you never deserved,” Niles tells him, in a tone so threatening that it nearly triggers Gavin’s ‘flight’ response. But knowing the threat is being directed to Nines keeps him rooted to the spot. 

“I gave up  _ everything _ ! I am owed more than some experiment that was to be deactivated  _ after  _ my mother had proof of artificial intelligence!”

It’s frustrating as these two throw their barbs, Gavin realizing a bit belatedly that they are almost ignoring him as they, indirectly, argue over him. He wants to shout at both of them to  _ shut the fuck up for two goddamn seconds _ , and give him some fucking answers because all this shit’s confusing to him, but something Nines says leaves Gavin feeling as if he’s been doused with ice cold water as discomfort creeps into his veins. 

“What the fuck do you mean after your mother had ‘proof’?” 

His words startle Nines, who visibly stiffens. Niles, on the other hand, wears an expression that makes that discomfort burn like a fast-acting poison.

“Did Mr. Stern not tell you?” it asks, a cold kind of amusement in its voice. “He agreed that I should be sent in his place as he learned to adapt to his new software.”

Gavin feels as if he’s been punched in the lungs. The tightness in his chest constricts until he fights to draw in a breath, but even then, the sensation won’t leave him and he stares into Nines’ back in complete horror at what this means.

“Under  _ duress _ !”

“As you can see, he is still having control issues,” Niles adds.

The hand on Gavin’s wrist has patches of synthetic skin peeling back and in a burst of disgust, Gavin forcefully tugs his arm out of Nines’ grip. He doesn’t want any more artificial body parts touching him, doesn’t want to be reminded that Nines can be this  _ selfish _ , letting Gavin be used to gain what he wanted in the end.

“You let them send that  _ thing _ to me pretending it was you?!” Gavin demands. His voice cracks as he rounds on Nines, fearing the answer but needing to hear it. He doesn’t want it to be true, doesn’t want  _ any _ of this to be true. But he knows it is before Nines even says it.

“...Did I not say it was under ‘duress’?” Nines answers, his tone far more acidic than it has any right to be. “You are a police officer and given the questionable practices of the DPD, understand better than most what duress  _ is _ . Do you think I wanted  _ that _ inside of you?”

“Well, it was and it’s all your fucking fault!” Gavin shouts, shoving at Nines’ chest in a fit of rage.

“What in the hell was I supposed to do, Gavin?! Fight my way through all of Cyberlife security when I could not even hold a weapon?!” Nines snaps back, catching Gavin’s wrists before Gavin could pound at his chest. There’s hurt in his eyes, but nothing at all apologetic in his sneer. “I was forced into something I  _ never  _ wanted!”

“No one fucking told you to sell your goddamn soul to Cyberlife in the first place, you fucking idiot!” 

“I did it to be with  _ you! _ ”

“Then why the  _ fuck _ weren’t you with me?!” Gavin shouts above him, his voice breaking. There’s an audible tremble that he’s unable to hide, that not even the humiliation of breaking down in front of an audience can contain. “You wanted to be with me so fucking  _ bad _ , you didn’t even  _ try _ to see me! Fuck, you goddamn roofied me to make me forget you!”

“I did it because there was no need to get you involved!”

“’Cuz all you’ve ever done is look out for me,” Gavin sneers, sarcastically. “Just fucking admit it: none of this has been about  _ me, _ it’s been all about  _ you! _ And you goddamn let them use me ‘cuz you thought you were gonna get a new fucking life out of it!”

“You do not understand  _ what _ you are talking about!”

But it doesn’t matter how vehemently Nines protests, all Gavin can hear is the doubt screaming back in his mind, reminding him of what happens every time Gavin takes Nines at his word. How many chances has Gavin given him over the years, only to find out every single fucking time that Nines has tricked or outright lied to him? 

“It is as you say, Gavin: Mr. Stern has only ever manipulated you. He cannot be trusted,” Niles says. 

Hearing another voice cut through their argument catches Gavin off guard, when he already forgot that Niles was still in the room with them. Gavin glares at the android from over his shoulder and snaps, “Stay the fuck out of this, Tin Can!” and faces Nines once again to continue arguing. “You let them use me like some fucking whore and all you got to goddamn say for yourself is I wouldn’t fucking understand?! What the fuck is there to not understand?!”

“Must you always insist on arguing when I am in the middle of something?” He shoves Gavin aside roughly, but Gavin isn’t about to let Nines walk away from their argument. Nines rips his arm out of Gavin’s grip, the anger twisted on his features causing Gavin to take a cautious step back. “Do not test my patience, Gavin!”

“Don’t fucking walk away from me!”

Gavin forces his way in front of Nines as Nines attempts to charge at Niles. Nines is even more pissed off now, his glare focused on the android standing behind Gavin, but Gavin’s been here before and he’s... mostly certain that getting between Nines and his target won’t result in any harm coming his way. Nines can’t do any worse, the way Gavin sees it. 

“Step aside, Gavin, or I will be forced to remove you.”

“You gonna fucking roofie me again? Make me forget how much of a fucking asshole you are?” Gavin sneers. “Too fucking late. I’d be goddamn loaded if I had a dollar for every shitty thing I’ve put up with.”

“I am not opposed to using physical force should you not comply.”

“If you touch him, I will not be responsible for what harm will come to you,” Niles warns.

The android takes a step toward them, a glare mirroring Nines’ on its face as it withdraws a gun. The moment Gavin sees it take aim, he feels the color drain from his face. He shoves Nines further behind him, shielding the cyborg as best as he can, the wild pounding in his chest almost deafening. In that moment, he doesn’t give a shit what Nines has done to him. All he knows is that he doesn’t want him dead.

“Wh-what the fuck are you doing?! Put that away!” Gavin snaps, his voice hitching. He tries once again, one hand outstretched in front of him as if he can catch the goddamn bullet if Hal3000 decides to go trigger happy, the other trying to keep Nines behind him. Gavin’s not sure if he trusts the android any more than he trusts the fucking moron he’s trying to protect, but he’s not about to risk testing that to reach for his own weapon. “Fucking Christ, can’t we just talk about this?”

“I have calculated the likelihood that you can be reasoned with to be at 15.97%, given your natural mistrust towards technology you do not understand,” Niles replies. It inclines its head slightly, staring pointedly over Gavin’s shoulder. “Mr. Stern is even lower.”

Well... fuck, Gavin really can’t deny how fucking accurate that sounds. Had he a gun in his hand, he would not hesitate to put one in the murderbot’s skull. At least, that’s what he’d like to think, but even as he remains between the two of them, he struggles to separate who he believed the android was with what it actually is. All those memories: the proposal, the nights spent curled together in bed. Date nights. The Fourth of July. All of it some manufactured illusion of the life Gavin has always wanted.

He wanted the perfect boyfriend. Instead, he got something that can never be real. He now understands that there is a difference between  _ who he wants  _ and  _ what he wants _ because whoever Niles has tried to be, it can never be Nines. And Nines will never be anything other than what Kamski made him.

“I do not need protecting, Gavin,” Nines hisses.

Yet he makes no effort to move. But Gavin can swear he feels the cyborg’s icy gaze taking in the scene playing out in front of them. Nines is calm, if irritated, and the fact that he’s not reacting should put Gavin more at ease, but instead, he can’t shake the feeling that this is only the calm before the storm.

“Thought you said you weren’t gonna harm me!” Gavin shouts, unable to help but feel somewhat betrayed that the android hasn’t lowered its weapon yet. It’s silly as he’s aware the thing was programmed to have ‘feelings’ for him, but the longer he stares at it, the harder it is to forget the life they’ve made together, even if it’s one giant farce.

A flicker of something passes over the android’s face. Guilt? But then, Niles is cocking the gun and adjusting his aim. Gavin forgets to breathe as he realizes it’s aimed at his chest. “I promised only that no serious harm will come to you. If you insist on being a human shield, I will have no choice but to go through you to stop Stern. Do not test me, Gavin.”

The cold look on Niles’ face sends a chill down Gavin’s spine. In some ways, it’s more terrifying than the worst of Nines’ rage that Gavin has witnessed because he really has no goddamn clue what the machine’s boundaries are or what it’s capable of. For all those arguments they had, Gavin’s mentally chastising himself for the many moments he may have nearly gotten his neck snapped for being too fucking stupid to see what was standing in front of him.

A slow, chilling laugh makes Gavin nearly jump out of his skin, the sound echoing loudly as it bounces off the water-stained walls. He’s almost shocked that Niles is as caught off guard as he is, the laugh growing louder until Nines’ head falls between Gavin’s shoulder blades to stifle the deranged sound. He can feel Nines shaking with whatever it is that the cyborg finds so humorous and that sinking feeling has his stomach flipping uncomfortably.

“You can’t do it,” Nines chuckles, his breath hot as it falls on the back of Gavin’s neck. His lips ghost along the skin peeking above the collar of Gavin’s jacket and Gavin shivers. “We both know you will not take the shot.”

The android’s grip on its firearm falters as it stares in rage at the pair and Gavin wonders how, out of everything Nines could possibly say,  _ that _ is the thing that pisses it off. Gavin’s about to ask Nines what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, but then he’s stifling a small cry as Nines nips at that patch of skin. For fuck’s sake, Cyberlife’s Terminator is aiming point blank at him and Nines decides  _ now _ is the time to test how hard he can get Gavin when Gavin’s staring death in the face.

“He is quite pretty, is he not?” Nines murmurs, nuzzling the side of Gavin’s neck.

Gavin really wishes he knew what the fuck Nines is hoping to accomplish. Because, if the enraged look on Niles’ face is anything to go by, all Nines seems to be doing is pissing off the android even more.

“Mr. Stern, if you are hoping to antagonize me—”

“Antagonize you? So you admit that it upsets you when I touch  _ my _ detective,” Nines purrs, a shit-eating kind of satisfaction making his voice lilt on the word. 

Niles’ expression is unreadable, but it seems almost startled. In spite of having played the role of ‘Richard Stern’, even the android had underestimated Nines’ talent for exposing his target’s weaknesses, how he slowly pulls at your strings until you are doing and saying everything he wants. It’s a mistake Gavin’s always making and he understands only too well the sting of humiliation each time he falls for it.

That playful tone drops immediately as Nines’ voice takes on a rough edge, cutting through Gavin’s chain of thought. “You must have enjoyed bending him over and spoiling him for me every time you indulged in your manufactured infatuation with him. Chloe made sure I knew how  _ thorough _ you were.”

_ What? _

Gavin’s reeling with the way Nines’ voice drips with disgust, as if he’s discovered his favored toy used and broken and has no choice but to discard it. It hurts in a way that only Nines knows how to hurt him and he realizes somewhat belatedly that Nines  _ wants  _ Gavin to feel the visceral sting of his ire. There’s a protest sitting on the tip of Gavin’s tongue but that protest is dead before it’s uttered when Gavin feels the barrel of a gun press to his temple. 

_ When did he…? _

“Nines, what the fuc—argh!”

Gavin chokes out a cry of pain as Nines viciously tugs his head back by his hair, the gun digging in deeper. 

“Do not interrupt me when I am speaking!” Nines hisses. He pulls Gavin’s head back at an uncomfortable angle, tears springing to the detective’s eyes at how much it fucking hurts. His heart hammers in his panic and for as much as he wants to twist out of the painful hold Nines has on him, Gavin tells himself it’s all part of some manipulation. It must be. 

Through the haze of tears Gavin fights to blink back, he sees the android’s expression shift, its eyes flitting between Nines and Gavin. It’s hesitating. And whether it knows it or not, that hesitation is all Nines needs.

“If you believe I am gullible enough to fall for this act, you have sorely miscalculated my ability to assess human behavior,” Niles says, its grip tightening threateningly on the gun. It moves its wrist, aiming for over Gavin’s shoulder, now having a kill shot in sight. Gavin swallows a pained sound as the more threatening the android’s posture gets, the more Nines begins to tug. “I have studied your profile. I have lived as  _ you _ . The one thing I can conclude with certainty is that if I refuse to harm Gavin, you most definitely will not do anything that will cause serious physical harm to him, though I cannot say with confidence the same applies to emotional or mental trauma. I  _ know _ you, Mr. Stern. Perhaps better than Gavin does.”

“What you  _ know _ of me is a profile my mother concocted. She understands machines better than she understands people,” Nines answers, the note of contempt in his voice difficult to miss. “I would not rely on whatever code she put in your processor to determine who it is you believe you are dealing with.”

Its expression falters once again and it fixes its cool gaze on Gavin. But though it expresses emotions Gavin once thought genuine, all he seems now is a machine following a complex script to mimic human behavior.

“Go ahead; pull the trigger,” Nines taunts. From the corner of his eye, Gavin can see Nines’ finger slowly pressing the trigger, only stopping before the bullet is released from the chamber. Gavin’s pulse races faster. “He’ll be dead before you do.”

“Nines, stop!” Gavin cries out, making a show of struggling in the cyborg’s grip. There’s a burning in his neck as he tries to twist away. Fuck, he’ll be feeling that tomorrow. “L-Let me go, you fucking psycho!”

“Hush, darling,” Nines whispers, nosing Gavin’s cheek. His tone is patronizing, empty of what little compassion Gavin believes he is still capable of. But the only way Niles will buy it is if they both play their part. “The adults are speaking.”

“What the fuck?! I’ve f-fucking given up  _ everything _ for you!”

Gavin’s voice actually cracks, the honesty of them burning like a reopened wound. He’s had his life uprooted so many times because of Nines, has offered to throw it all away to be with him, and yet each time he does, Nines discards Gavin and leaves his life in shambles. And that’s exactly what will happen if Nines walks away from this confrontation and pursues Cyberlife. Gavin can’t go back to pretending he’s happy.

“You are really beginning to test my patience,” Nines hisses. “Another word out of you and I may just kill you to shut you up!”

“Let him go, Stern!” Niles says, its voice coming out more like a desperate plea than a command. There’s still suspicion on its face, but its falling for the charade, hook, line and sinker. A rookie mistake. “Detective Reed has  _ nothing  _ to do with what Cyberlife did to you! I cannot understand what would make you want to hurt him, but killing him is something the Richard Stern of six months ago would never have done!”

“Have you not listened to a single  _ fucking _ word I have said?” Nines snaps. “The one thing that was  _ mine _ is ruined for me! Every time I look at Gavin, all I do is preconstruct the many ways you have defiled him! I cannot touch him without being reminded of  _ her _ and how she has destroyed what I was  _ owed _ !”

Tears run down his cheeks as Gavin hears the visceral contempt in Nines’ voice and it  _ hurts _ to be talked of like he’s damaged goods, like Gavin hasn’t suffered as much as Nines has with what Cyberlife did to them both. But worse is the guilt because Gavin knows his willful ignorance is what brought them here, that he played his own part in ensuring the farce went on for as long as it did.

_ Is this really what he thinks of me? _ Gavin can’t help but wonder, doubt settling like a heavy cloud on his mind.

“You were given more than you ever  _ deserved _ ! How many more lives must you ruin before you understand that Cyberlife was not trying to imprison you, but protect the rest of the world from you?” Niles argues. His grip on the gun slackens and Gavin sees the android look forlornly at him. “Dr. Stern  _ tried _ giving you a second chance, but all you have done is proven you refuse to change!”

Hesitantly, Niles slowly lowers his gun. “If any part of you still cares for Gavin, you will let him go. He is only a victim in this. You and I can settle this.”

There is a pregnant pause. When Nines finally speaks, his words slice into Gavin with the precision of a bullet fired at point blank range.

“Gavin Reed is  _ nothing _ to me,” Nines declares. “Not anymore.” 

_ He’s lying, _ Gavin tells himself.  _ He’s gotta be. _

But never has it been so difficult to ignore that voice.

“Stern,” Niles quietly begs, “Please... do not do this.”

“I have always been terrible at sharing my old toys,” Nines says, coolly. “Call me selfish but I would much rather see him dead than with  _ you! _ ”

Gavin only catches Niles lifting his arm, preparing to aim once more at Nines, when the detective is thrown violently to the ground. He smashes his right shoulder painfully, the entirety of his weight falling onto it, and he cries out in pain. However, his cry is drowned out by the sound of a shot ringing through the air, followed by two more. Rolling onto his back, Gavin scrambles onto his knees, reaching blindly for his own gun with his good arm, and watches as Nines fires another shot. Niles shifts but its reaction time is slower than Gavin’s known androids to have and the android takes the bullet in the upper part of its chest. It falls to its knees, blue blood seeping from a wound in its left shoulder and another dangerously close to the center of its chest. An odd, static-like sound spills from its parted lips and Gavin notes that part of its right cheek is missing, the damage reminiscent of the scars Nines had once had.

“Sentiment is such a dangerous thing,” Nines says, releasing a cold chuckle. He’s bleeding from a wound on his right arm, above where his prosthetic is attached, but his grip on his gun does not waver as he aims it at the android’s head. “It makes you  _ weak _ .”

“I-I c-could not f-fire until G-Gavin was out of h-harm’s way,” Niles admits, its staticky voice crackling.

Nines’ shoes click as he slowly approaches the android. It tries to lift its gun, but Nines fires easily at its hand and disarms it. All it can do is watch as its executioner approaches, the echo of his footfalls a countdown to its deactivation.

“And that is the difference between you and I,” Nines says, a maniacal smirk on his lips. “ _ I  _ would have taken the shot.”

_ You really would _ , Gavin realizes.

As the android turns its sad gaze on Gavin, Gavin looks away. It has to be done, there’s no way around it. He tells himself that it never was Nines, that it deserves worse than Nines is going to do it. But he can’t make himself believe it, can’t forget the nights they spent entangled together or the gentleness of its caresses. It thinks it loves him, through perhaps no fault of its own, and while Gavin would never want to go back to it, the truth is that the only crime it’s committed is loving Gavin.

“Nines...”

“Darling, I am somewhat preoccupied at the moment,” Nines answers, his voice filled with a kind of glee that makes Gavin feel even sicker.

_ Don’t do this, _ he wants to beg but the words stick in his throat.

“Stop!”

Hearing another shout, followed by the sound of someone quickly approaching, startles everyone in the room.

“Nines! Ralph said  _ stop _ !”

Before Nines can react, Ralph shoves the cyborg as hard as he can, tears welling in his large, blue eyes. Nines bites back a hiss, but Gavin can tell he’s in pain. Nines’ glare only deepens as he fixes it on his lackey.

“I told you to wait outside!”

“Ralph doesn’t want to wait outside!” he shouts back, his entire body vibrating with a kind of anger Gavin has never seen. It’s as if the months of putting up with everyone else’s abuse has finally got to the kid. “Not if Nines is gonna hurt RK!”

“This does not concern you, Ralph! Do as you’re told!”

“No!”

Nines’ face twists into an ugly kind of fury and Gavin sees how he struggles to keep his cool. If Gavin were a betting man, he’d guess that Nines has never heard that word come from anyone he considers an inferior.

“I will warn you only once more,” Nines says, with a forced note of calm. “Remain outside until  _ I  _ am finished.”

“If Nines wants to hurt RK, Nines will have to hurt Ralph, too!”

Ralph flings himself over the android, attempting to use as much of his smaller frame as possible to shield it. Niles tries to push Ralph off of him, but the android is too weak, its movements too sluggish. It’s pleading with Ralph to leave, to not put himself in harm’s way, but Ralph refuses to listen. He clings even tighter to Niles with tears streaming down his cheeks and the entire scene breaks something in Gavin as it unfolds before him.

“So be it,” Nines snaps, aiming his gun at the back of Ralph’s head. Gavin’s eyes widen as Nines’ finger begins to pull on the trigger. “You were always a shitty excuse for a lackey, anyway.”

“Nines, stop!”

Nines tenses, surprised, almost as if he’s forgotten Gavin’s in the room with them. His wild eyes turn to glare at the detective, the right one sitting at an off angle again. It doesn’t stop the chill from creeping down Gavin’s spine, from that fear of redirecting the cyborg’s anger at him and what the consequences will be. But Gavin can’t let Nines do this. 

“Drop your fucking gun  _ now!” _

“Do not tell me you will fire on me if I do not,” Nines sneers.

He looks pointedly at Gavin’s own gun, which is still in his hand. With a grumble, Gavin angrily holsters it. “What? No, you fucking idiot! I’m telling you to drop your fucking weapon before you goddamn do something stupid!”

“Ralph is in my way!”

“That fucking robot is one of the few fucking things in this world that gives a shit about him!” Gavin snaps back. “What the fuck do you expect him to do?!”

“I expect him to fall in line!”

“And I expected you to fucking come back to me six months ago but we can’t all goddamn get what we want!”

Guilt makes Nines’ grip on his weapon slacken but it doesn’t quite wipe the sneer from his face. “He needs to learn a valuable lesson about what happens when someone crosses me.”

“Newsflash, asshole: he’ll be fucking dead!”

“That  _ is _ the lesson!”

“For fuck’s sake, Nines: if you fucking kill him, I am never going to goddamn speak to you again!” Gavin shouts. “Connor might be able to forgive all the shit you do but I  _ can’t _ ! This is one line that if you fucking cross, there’s no coming back!”

Nines glances from Gavin and back to the gun that’s aimed at Ralph. Ralph, to his credit, has not tried to move, and is silently crying as he hugs Niles tightly. Niles looks absolutely devastated, its large, gray eyes seeming to silently plead with Nines  _ Don’t _ .

“Please, Nines,” Gavin begs, his voice wavering.

With an angry sneer, Nines viciously holsters his gun. He slaps at his right temple, righting his eye so it rolls back into place, and pivots on his heels, storming towards Gavin.

“We leave Detroit  _ tonight _ ,” he snaps, grabbing Gavin roughly by the wrist and forcing him to follow. “You are  _ dead _ to me, Ralph. And if I ever see  _ you _ or your pet robot again, I will do worse to you than Kamski ever did.”

The last sound Gavin hears is Ralph sobbing quietly into Niles’ shoulder as Nines drags Gavin out of the room. The detective’s eyes catch the android’s for one brief moment and, for perhaps the only time since Gavin learned of Niles’ identity, Gavin  _ almost _ feels sorry for it.

* * *

“What the fuck was that back there?” Gavin demands. 

Rain patters on the windshield as he drives, making the road before him barely visible. It’s the first words spoken between either of them after Nines angrily pushed Gavin into his vehicle and snapped at him to drive them to a motel. Gavin, who’s been silently seething with anger and hurt over what transpired, waited until they were halfway to their destination before he could bring himself to ask what’s been on his mind.

Now, he swerves to avoid getting rear-ended as a car fails to signal while switching lanes. What is it about shitty weather that always brings out the shittiest drivers?

“You gonna answer the goddamn question or am I supposed to sit here and pretend you haven’t lost your fucking mind?!”

Instead of answering, Nines tinkers with the radio, seeking through the stations and muttering incoherently, making a sound of disgust. Gavin’s prepared to yell at him some more, hating that the asshole is ignoring him, but then Nines says, dryly, “I was hoping for some Sinatra.”

With a sneer, Gavin smacks Nines’ hand away. “Your murdering ass doesn’t get any fucking Sinatra! Jesus Christ, Nines: Ralph fucking looks up to you! H-How the fuck could you—?!”

But he doesn’t want to say it, as if uttering it will pull him right back into that warehouse, into some alternate reality where Ralph’s blood freshly pools the floor and Nines looms over him, a cold smirk of satisfaction sitting on his face. Even the image of what almost was is enough to make Gavin’s mouth fill with bile, his throat stinging as he swallows thickly.

“His loyalty was in question. I have no need for anyone I cannot trust,” Nines says, with an indifferent shrug. 

Gavin slams hard on the brakes, Nines forced to use his prosthetic arm to keep from slamming into the dash. Gavin’s hands are shaking violently as he grips the steering wheel, knuckles bone white. His vision blurs and it makes it even more difficult to focus on the red light as Gavin waits for it to change, but he can’t silence the sound of Ralph’s cries or the image of Nines pointing the gun at him.

“Darling, you are far too emotional to be driving.”

“F-fuck you,” Gavin whispers, his foot heavy as he hits the gas pedal.

He weaves around the vehicle in front of him to avoid crashing into it. Though Nines makes a sound of disapproval, he doesn’t remark again on Gavin’s reckless driving.

“I chose  _ you _ ,” Nines says after some time. “Is this not what you wanted?”

A life on the run with a heartless killer who turned on his own friend with little prompting?

_ No. _

“Yeah,” Gavin says, his voice barely above a whisper. “It is.”

If this is what it’s gonna take for Gavin to keep Ralph and everyone else safe from Nines’ wrath, so fucking be it. Gavin doesn’t even want to think of the people Nines killed at Cyberlife just because they ‘got in his way’.

_ “—authorities still have yet to receive any official statement from Cyberlife on the androids that attacked a number of guests at a benefit held by local artist Carl Manfr—” _

Gavin shuts the radio off.

It’s not long before he pulls into a rundown motel in one of the seedier parts of the city. Few are out this late at night, the streets only filled with the sound of rain hitting every surface. A good number of the street lights are dimmer than they should be, another broken, giving the motel an eerie feel that Gavin struggles to shake off. A few of the windows and doors are boarded up on some of the rooms and Gavin would get back in his car and seek out the next place, if not for the ‘Vacancy’ on the rusted, flickering sign.

“Stay here,” Gavin advises, pocketing his phone before getting out of the car. He sprints to the office, grunting as pain shoots through his shoulder. He’s going to have to get Nines to take a look at it once they’ve got a room.

The owner of the place is barely awake when Gavin gets inside, seems to have even less fucks to give about renting out a room. He asks few questions, half grumbles the cost, and accepts the cash Gavin hands to him, all but tossing the key at the detective. Gavin would normally be just as rude, but prolonging the conversation and leaving an impression on the cantankerous prick is not the best way to lay low. If Gavin and Nines are going to do this, they need to patch each other up, get some rest, and then get the fuck out of Detroit before Amanda or Chloe decide to send someone else after them.

Gavin forces himself to not think of Socks or Tina as he makes his way back to Nines.

“Room 103,” Gavin says, indicating to one of the doors on ground level with a missing number. “You okay to walk?”

Though he’s still angry in a way he can’t quite put into words, seeing the bullet wound in Nines’ shoulder makes his chest tighten, gaze softening with concern. Nines, of course, ruins the moment by rolling his eyes and haughtily stepping out of the vehicle, a lit cigarette dangling between his lips. The cyborg slams the door and strides past Gavin, snatching the keys from him. “I am capable of walking on my own, Gavin.”

Gavin has to quicken his pace to catch up to Nines, his mood quickly souring. “Sorry for giving a shit. Next time you get your ass handed to you, I’ll remember to fucking look the other way.”

Nines stops and pivots so fast, Gavin bumps into his chest. Anger flares in his gray eyes, making Gavin’s insides burn with something hot, the curl of the cyborg’s lips looking far more tempting than they have any right to. “I did  _ not _ have my ‘ass handed to me’, as you so eloquently put it. Shall I remind you I would have taken care of our ‘problem’ had you not intervened?”

Gavin would much rather  _ not _ be reminded, but seeing as he never quite learned when to keep his fool mouth shut, he adds, rather smugly, “Cyberlife fucking found you. Since Robocop wasn’t tailing me, that means they’ve been tailing you all night. You might as well have a goddamn target tattooed to your forehead.”

Nines sneers, jamming the key into the door and opening it so hard, Gavin half expects him to take it off its hinges. Once Gavin’s inside, Nines kicks it closed, skin peeling away near his temple to reveal a violently blinking red light. His mood is only made worse as he flicks on the light and takes in the drab, unkempt appearance of the room.

“I had the situation under control before  _ someone  _ disobeyed orders and contacted you,” Nines replies, far too defensively. Gavin can’t fucking believe Nines is being enough of a prick that he refuses to say Ralph’s name. 

“You know what your problem is? You’re so goddamn pissed off, you’ve gotten sloppy,” Gavin says. “Fuck, your DNA was all over the fucking bathroom back at the mansion. If we’re gonna skip town, you gotta start thinking with that fancy headchip you got and not turn every fucking room you’re in into a goddamn crime scene.”

Nines scrunches his nose, brows furrowed in contemplation. Glancing down at the ruddy carpet, the cyborg falls into silence for a moment and then quietly mutters, “But then... how did it find me?” mostly to himself. His icy gaze then flicks towards the detective, zeroing in on Gavin’s neck.

“...Nines?”

Faster than Gavin can blink, Nines rips off the LED he had given the detective all those months before.

“What the fuck are you doing? Give that back!”

But Nines strides away from Gavin’s outstretched hand, skin peeling back as he interfaces with the small, circular band. Then, with a sneer, he crushes it between his forefinger and thumb.

Gavin stops, gazes in shock, as Nines flicks the pieces to the floor.

“...Wh-why would you…?” He shakes his head, a kind of pain different from all the other misery Nines has caused burrowing low in his chest. That LED was  _ his _ . And seeing it in pieces…

“Your ‘ _ fiance’ _ activated the GPS and was using it to track you,” Nines says, irritably. “So it seems my  _ methods _ are not the reason it found us.”

Gavin doesn’t even want to address the smugness in Nines’ tone, and can only stare dejectedly at what remains of his ‘ring’ on the floor.

“You gave that to me,” he says, quietly. He takes two heavy steps forward, stopping to look down at the filthy rug beneath their feet. The small bits of the LED rest starkly at the tip of his wet shoe. “You made a promise the night you left.”

“It must not have been  _ that _ important as I do not even remember what that was,” Nines answers, coldly. 

With a cry of anger, Gavin shoves hard at Nines’ chest, his vision clouding. Nines hisses in pain and though Gavin should stop, he does it again, something inside of him snapping. He pounds dangerously close to the bullet wound, snapping and shouting whatever abuse sits on the edge of his tongue.

“You fucking asshole! You goddamn selfish prick! Y-You fucking piece of sh—!”

Nines allows himself to fall back, sitting on the edge of the bed behind him. He viciously tugs Gavin onto his lap, where Gavin continues to pound and curse at his chest. Then, with a broken sob, Gavin stops, his head falling to Nines’ good shoulder as his own begin to shake. The pain of seeing the remnants of that promise sprinkled at their feet serve as a reminder that, much like everything else Nines has ever promised him, it was as empty as when Nines uttered it.

“I-I fucking  _ hate _ you,” he gasps out, with so much contempt, it makes him physically ache to say it. 

He has to bite on his lip to keep from crying out in shock as soft lips trail along his jaw, his skin so starved for Nines’ touch—the  _ real _ Nines—that Gavin can’t fight that need to submit. It doesn’t matter how enraged and hurt he is, Gavin is but a pawn that Nines can place anywhere on his chessboard, only important when Nines decides Gavin can be made useful. 

_ Stop _ , he wishes he could say. But Gavin doesn’t want him to.

“Darling, please,” Nines whispers hotly against Gavin’s ear. He drags his teeth across the lobe and Gavin hates how he can already feel his body responding, blood pooling below his waist. “We both know you are addicted to how miserable I make you.”

He must be to keep coming back to this. He should be kicking Nines out of this bed, demanding apologies or, better yet, telling him to stay the fuck out of his life. But no matter how cruel Nines can be to him, Gavin always gets pulled back in.

Gavin makes a tiny whine as Nines nips at his throat, Nines’ lips gently teasing the skin before he suckles at the spot his teeth had abused. Though Gavin wants to protest, tell Nines he fucking  _ hates _ the way Nines makes him feel, there’s no point in trying to lie to Nines any more than Gavin’s failed to lie to himself. Bruised and bleeding, with their arms entangled around one another, and Nines marking and claiming flesh he’s been denied for so long makes Gavin feel more alive than he has since that night Nines first awoke in Cyberlife. The only thing he wants—that he’s ever wanted—is to ride with Nines to the end, even if that end means he’ll burn out with him.

“Nines,” Gavin gasps, trying to grind down on Nines’ cock.

Much to his dismay, Nines flips them so he can push Gavin down onto the bed, his prosthetic hand gripping Gavin’s left. He weaves their fingers together, hovering above Gavin and gazing down at him with his lust-blown eyes, the hint of a soft smirk on his lips. Gavin’s missed the way Nines looks at him, as if he’s looking at something that is  _ his _ and only  _ his.  _ The memory of Niles’ touch is still too fresh, makes Gavin want to scrub his skin raw every time he thinks of how it had touched him. Never has he needed Nines as badly as he needs him now, to remind him that no one else can satisfy him in the ways Nines has.

“I much prefer you when you are not pretending you would rather stay angry with me,” Nines purrs, nuzzling Gavin’s cheek. 

Gavin attempts to press up against him but Nines forces his hips back down with his hand, palming at Gavin’s erection and eliciting a breathless cry from him. That more stubborn side of Gavin welcomes any argument Nines is provoking but it’s difficult to have the energy to remain pissed off when he wants Nines to keep touching him. “’M still pissed. F-Fucking asshole.”

“Of course you are, darling,” Nines murmurs, his lips finding Gavin’s.

Even if Gavin wanted, any protest he had would have died in his throat. But instead, Gavin gives in, allowing his lips to part so Nines can deepen the kiss. The taste of tobacco is heavy on Nines’ tongue and it’s fucking hot that a kiss from Nines tastes the way Gavin fucking remembers—not at all like how Niles’ kisses have been. A moan erupts at the back of Gavin’s throat and he arches up into Nines’ palm, chasing what little friction he can, his tongue stroking against the cyborg’s.

“Gavin,” Nines groans softly, panting gently against Gavin’s lips. The sound of Gavin’s jeans unbuckling leaves a hot sensation curling low in the detective’s chest. “Allow me to apologize for my… ‘upsetting’ behavior this evening.”

Nines’s hand slips beneath the waistband of Gavin’s underwear and Gavin throws his head back with a low moan as his lover’s fingers wrap around the shaft of his cock. Whatever lingering resentment and hurt remain from Nines’ callous actions are quickly forgotten as the cyborg gives an experimental stroke, as if recalling the way Gavin loves to be touched, and all Gavin can do is watch with his half-lidded gaze as Nines begins to descend down his chest.

“Y-You gonna suck me off, babe?” Gavin asks, his voice thick with arousal.

Nines laughs softly, a strand of his damp hair curling on his forehead. “I thought the blowjob was implied.”

Unable to resist, Gavin tenderly swipes the lock aside. His body aches from the tumble he took earlier but he pushes aside those troubling thoughts, not wanting to ruin what little respite they’ve found with the reality of the shit they’ve gotten themselves into. A blowjob is probably all either of them can really handle, but that need to be filled by Nines, to have Nines inside him after so long, makes Gavin not give a shit about his own well-being. 

“Don’t want you to blow me,” Gavin murmurs. He hooks one of his ankles behind Nines’ leg, attempts to pull Nines down on top of him, desperate to feel the full weight of him pressed against him. “I wanna  _ feel _ you, babe.”

“Gavin... I do not think either of us are in the right state for  _ that _ .”

For a moment, Gavin swears he hears something of a warning in Nines’ voice, the cyborg subtly conveying to the detective to drop it. But that wouldn’t make any sense. Why would Nines get angry with Gavin for wanting sex?

“Don’t make me beg,” Gavin teases. “I want you so fucking much.”

His voice is so heavy with need, the words crack as he utters them. He knows how much Nines loves it when Gavin gets like this, all but pleading to be taken. The uncertainty of what comes next and the way his cock aches in Nines’ grip drives this reckless need in Gavin, that same need that always finds both of them back where it all started. ‘Fuck now and worry about all that other bullshit later’ is the only mantra either of them have ever followed.

So when Nines tenses, resists the way Gavin tries and pulls him down, his expression unreadable as he keeps his knees firmly planted on the bed, a warning bell goes off in Gavin’s head. Gavin has to hold back a sound of disappointment when Nines releases his cock, though his prosthetic, the skin now mostly peeled back, still remains tightly gripping Gavin’s left hand. But there’s a cold look in his eyes and that LED that’s been spinning yellow becomes a rapid shade of red at the cyborg’s temple. 

“Gavin,” Nines warns once more, his tone firm. “I think it best if we avoid doing anything too strenuous.”

Gavin shakes off his disappointment with a small sigh. He’s not gonna push Nines if Nines isn’t in the mood. It still strikes him as odd though since Nines is the one who unbuckled Gavin’s jeans first…

“Yeah, uh, I guess we shouldn’t,” Gavin says, quietly. His eyes fall to his cock, which sits full and neglected on his abdomen, the tip poking out from his underwear. A dribble of precum makes it shine in the dim lighting and he has to avert his eyes because staring at his own dick is certainly not helping him forget how fucking turned on he is.

As he shifts his gaze up, he colors as he realizes, much to his surprise, that Nines isn’t the least bit aroused. A sudden bout of anxiety leaves him wondering if anything he’s said or done since Nines started touching him made Nines lose interest in taking it any further. Has he become so used to Niles, he’s forgotten what to do and say to make Nines want him as badly as Gavin wants Nines?

_ Maybe I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore, _ Gavin thinks, swallowing the uncomfortable lump that’s formed in his throat. 

“You should relax, darling,” Nines says. The charming smirk that suddenly appears on Nines’ face disarms Gavin, the cyborg leaning in to kiss Gavin softly. “Let me do one of the many things I have preconstructed doing to you every night since we last parted.”

When Gavin only nods hesitantly, Nines kisses him once more. Gavin is too startled to respond right away and it’s not until Nines deepens the kiss that Gavin lets his concerns slip away, kissing back with that same need. He gasps as he feels Nines’ thumb circle the head of his dick, unconsciously bucking up his hips to press up against Nines’ fingers. Nines chuckles as he pulls back, his fingers now abandoning Gavin’s cock in favor of tugging on Gavin’s shirt.

“It has been too long since I have last had you like this,” Nines whispers, drawing feather light patterns along the sliver of abdomen he’s exposed, “if you remove this, it will make tasting every inch of you a lot easier.”

Giving in is all his dick wants at the moment, to settle back into their unhealthy pattern and let history repeat itself. Every time him and Nines have their disagreements, they forgo the necessary conversation and skip right to the part where they’re panting and moaning each other’s names, chasing that temporary solution that ends the moment they cum. Gavin can usually convince himself this is just how they are.

But not tonight. Even if his body quivers for more of Nines’ touch, Gavin can sense there’s something not right with what’s unfolding. Nines is more unhinged than he remembers and Gavin doesn’t know why but he feels like he’s walking on eggshells.

“I, uh, think we should slow down a minute,” Gavin says, carefully. He tries to tug back his hand, the one locked in Nines’ grip above his head, but the cyborg’s grip tightens. “C’mon, Nines. Let go.”

“I can still please you.”

There’s a note of desperation in Nines’ voice that Gavin wasn’t expecting. Is Nines trying to convince Gavin or himself?

“I don’t doubt that, babe. You can prove it to me later,” Gavin tries again. “But until we get that bullet outta you, no one’s gonna be sucking any dick.”

He pulls once more only to find that Nines isn’t budging. Panic begins to bubble in his chest and Gavin fights to not let it show on his face. How the fuck is Nines holding him down like that with his injured shoulder?

“Are you saying that because you would prefer  _ him _ ?”

_ What?! _

Gavin stops his struggle, staring up at Nines in shock. Nines is gazing down at him with a sneer, a kind of rage that makes the panic balloon until Gavin’s holding back a breath, afraid that even exhaling will provoke Nines into unleashing his wrath. Gavin’s never seen it like this—that violence that Nines has always contained when snapping or shouting at Gavin. Between the two of them, Gavin’s the only one who has ever taking his anger out physically on the other.

For the first time, Gavin is genuinely afraid of Nines.

“Nines, what the fuck are you—?”

“That  _ thing _ is not even human,” Nines sneers, viciously. “Or have you already forgotten that,  _ love? _ ”

The color drains from Gavin’s face, Nines spitting the pet name like it’s the worst insult he can think of. How does Nines  _ know _ that’s what the android had called Gavin?

“Nines,” Gavin says his name slowly, soothingly, trying to calm his lover so he can ease his way out of Nines’ grip. But Nines’ prosthetic fingers clamp down and Gavin has to swallow his cry of pain. Any harder and Nines will be crushing bone. “B-Babe, y-you’re hurting me.”

“No worse than the damage you did from the moment you spread your legs for that  _ machine _ ,” Nines hisses, his eyes wild with a fury that seems to be looking for any excuse to take this too far, “Did you think I was going to forgive you for becoming that android’s little whore? Did you really believe I had been lying when I said it ruined you for me?”

“I-I didn’t know,” Gavin replies, shakily. His voice hitches with his fear. “Y-You gotta believe me, babe. I would’ve helped you. I would never have fucking left you that night but I-I didn’t fucking know—”

“Well you should have!”

Nines’ voice cracks with sorrow and Gavin’s shocked to see the glassiness in Nines’ eyes, even in the one that’s once again not sitting right in its socket. The cyborg exhales sharply, blinks to try and keep the tears from spilling but they only seem to well more thickly as they gather in his hurt-filled eyes. 

“You should have fucking  _ known  _ it was not me,” Nines whispers, tears spilling down his left cheek. 

“Babe...”

Though Nines is hurting him, whether the cyborg is consciously aware or not, Gavin’s need to comfort him overrules his physical discomfort and tries to lift the hand that isn’t trapped in Nines’ grip, wishing to wipes away Nines’ tears. But the moment Gavin tries to move, Nines icy gaze narrows. With a snarl, he tugs Gavin roughly off the bed with him.

“N-Nines! Nines, stop!”

“I should  _ never _ have entertained forgiving you!” Nines snaps, dragging Gavin to the bathroom.

“Let me go! L-Let me the fuck  _ go! _ ”

Nines throws Gavin viciously to the ground, the shoulder Gavin had fallen on earlier slamming against the porcelain toilet. Gavin tries to scramble to his feet, despite the severe pain burning in his shoulder and neck, but Nines kicks him back down. Wheezing, Gavin grips at his chest, curling into a ball to deflect any other blows the cyborg wants to deliver. To his surprise, his arm is tugged back at an uncomfortable angle and there’s an audible  _ click _ as something cold and metallic encloses around his wrist.

Nines handcuffed him to the pipe beneath the sink.

_ What the fuck? Where the fuck did he get those? _

The only pair Gavin has are in his car.

... _ Fuck! _

“You fucking planned this!” Gavin accuses him, his voice cracking. “You were never gonna fucking stop going after them!”

Nines stands over Gavin, easily stepping away as the detective tries to kick at his legs. There’s a cool, distant expression on his face as he tilts his head, studying Gavin. It makes Gavin feel stupid for falling for yet another of Nines’ empty promises. 

“In all that time I spent working for Kamski, he taught me one valuable lesson I am constantly being reminded of every time I let you get in my way,” Nines says, quietly. He pauses, squats down to take Gavin’s face gently in his hands, his artificial fingers cold to the touch. “Sentimentality is what makes you  _ weak. _ I should have strangled you that first night, after I had my fun with you,” and though Gavin’s vision swims, blurring Nines in front of him, he feels those metallic fingers caress his throat. It’s both terrifying and tantalizing as Nines’ palm presses against Gavin’s Adam’s apple. “It would have saved me so much misfortune if I had killed you when you meant  _ nothing _ to me.”

Nines’ fingers close around Gavin’s throat, a coldness in his gaze that makes Gavin’s heart thump hollowly in his chest.

“N-Nines,” Gavin rasps out, his voice rough. There’s pressure against his windpipe, but not enough to silence him. Though Nines stares at him the way Gavin imagines he has looked at every one of his targets before killing them, indecision is what seems to keep him from squeezing.

“You make me feel  _ weak _ ,” Nines whispers, with a contempt that penetrates Gavin deep to his core. As if he hates Gavin or, perhaps, himself, for becoming anything other than the silent killer lurking in the shadows that the scumbags who once worked for Kamski whispered about. His accusation remains unstated, but in those icy eyes, Gavin sees it:  _ You made me this way! _ “I refuse to ever feel that way again.”

Gavin starts to struggle, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. He grasps at Nines’ wrist with his free hand, tries to tug, but it’s no use. Nines’ grip remains firmly on his throat.

“D-Don’t,” Gavin whispers. “Nines, y-you don’t have to do this.”

“But I do,” Nines says, that distant look in his eyes once more. “It is the only way I will be free of you.”

Gavin chokes back a sob, the tears in his eyes blurring his lover before him. But even in the death that Nines is promising him, Gavin can’t be angry with him. Perhaps he’s always known that following Nines could only end with him in a body bag. That is the price Gavin was willing to pay that first night he pressed a presumably loaded gun to his temple; it’s the same price he’s willing to pay now. 

Suddenly, just as Gavin’s so certain Nines will finally suffocate him or snap his throat, the fingers wrapped around his neck retreat. The detective slumps forward, catching himself on the grimy tile with a single hand. The hammering in his chest crescendos, thick tears slipping off his chin but though there is so, so much Gavin wants to scream at Nines that all he can do is stare in surprise at him.

“I can’t do it,” Nines admits, his voice so quiet, Gavin almost doesn’t catch it. He says it with what may be humiliation, unwilling to accept that there are lines he is still unable to cross. Yet that moment of clarity also makes a dark look pass over Nines’ face, his lips curling in a snarl. “But you will not get in my way anymore.”

The finality of it tells Gavin immediately that Nines doesn’t plan on surviving the night.

“D-Don’t,” Gavin rasps out, struggling weakly to free himself. But all he’s doing is digging the metal cuff more deeply into his wrist. “N-Nines!”

He reaches for Nines but the cyborg is already making his way to the door.

“Goodbye, Gavin.”

His voice crackling, Gavin shouts at Nines’ retreating backside. He cries, begs, even curses at the cyborg long after the front door has closed. He fights to try and break himself out, kicks and pulls at the rusted pipe until he’s exhausted, tears and sweat shining on his face. He’s in more physical pain than he’s been in a long time, all of it because of Nines, but it has nothing on how raw the burn in his chest feels, the knowledge that Nines is heading straight to his death. Chloe knows Nines is coming after her and she’ll be waiting for him.

_ I need to get the fuck outta here! _ Gavin thinks, driving himself into a desperate frenzy. His wrist is scraped raw, blood staining the handcuff. He’ll need something to pick the lock, though he’s still shitty at it despite Nines’— _ Niles! _ —attempts to teach him how. He glances around him but he sees nothing that looks useful, then digs into his pockets, but all he’s got is a torn receipt, some lint, and his goddamn phone—

His phone?

The Nines Gavin remembers wouldn’t be this sloppy. 

_ All he fucking cares about is going after Cyberlife, _ Gavin thinks, miserably.

Abandoning his idea to free himself, Gavin scrolls through his contacts and dials.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he mumbles mostly under his breath, pressing the phone to his ear, “for fuck’s sake, pickup your goddamn phone.”

Each time it goes to voicemail, Gavin redials. Finally, on the fifth attempt, a tired voice answers on the other end, his voice thick with sleep.

“Gav... it’s three in the morning...”

“We gotta stop him, Con! We fucking gotta hurry before—!”

“Stop who? Rich?” Though Connor still sounds groggy, he seems to wake up immediately. “Gavin, what are you talking about?”

“It’s Nines!” Gavin says. “He’s gonna kill Chloe and Amanda!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations to everyone who has made it this far! Just to let you know, this fic may end up with 9 chapters as I may need to split the final chapter. I'll have a better idea once I write more of chapter 8. As there is a lot going on in my personal life this month, I cannot say for certain that chapter 8 will be posted two weeks from now but I will try my best to maintain the same schedule. I do apologize and ask for your understanding. Your comments have kept this series going and so long as readers remain interested, I will continue to share my stories :)


	8. Bellyache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines returns to Cyberlife for a final showdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so much for your patience! We're in the last stretch now. It's hard to believe that it's been over a year since this series started. Part of me is sad that it will be ending soon but another part of me is amazed that we've made it this far. As many of us self-quarantine and practice social distancing, I hope this fic is still keeping you at least somewhat entertained. Now is a great time to be in fandom.
> 
> I'd like to give a quick shout out to [FallLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallLover) for beta-reading. Without all the help you've given me, I would be spending even more time putting off editing and drowning in self-doubt. Thank you so much for everything <3\. Also, a thank you to [DeviantAlicee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviantAlicee) for creating some amazing artwork for this chapter. I will post a link to her art blog in the end notes. Be sure to check it out!
> 
> Before continuing, please heed the **WARNINGS** in the tags. If you wish not to spoil it for yourself, carry on. This is an angst-heavy chapter.
> 
> Uh...happy reading?

_Psychologically speaking, vengeance rarely brings the catharsis we hope for._

\- Dr. Harleen Francis Quinzel

  
  


Hot-wiring Gavin’s car is easy. Much like how Nines has pulled every one of Gavin’s strings when there was something to be gained, he pulls apart the ones he needs, reattaches them and starts the engine. It thrums to life and he’s soon peeling out of the parking lot, his foot heavy on the gas. His mind palace is already calculating the fastest route to Cyberlife and with the streets mostly empty this time of night, he’ll be there in no time.

“Nines!”

He grips the steering wheel harder, rain splattering heavily on the windshield. It obstructs the road, makes it near impossible to see what’s more than a handful of yards in front of him. He _doesn’t_ stare at the passenger’s seat, and reminds himself this is nothing more than his mind palace reconstructing one of those corrupted memories stored in his data banks. 

Nines doesn’t feel guilty. At all.

“Would you fucking look at me when I’m talking to you?!”

Silence.

Just as it was last summer, so Nines refuses to speak to this apparition. This was the Gavin he _knew_ , not the one locked in that motel room. Yet both somehow managed to crawl beneath Nines’ skin, and tried to make him into something he’s _not._

Nines won’t make that mistake again.

“Fucking impossible to have a goddamn fight with you when you’re doing this silent treatment bullshit,” Gavin grumbles.

Something in Nines’ chest burns. Perhaps he should have taken a moment to check his wounds. 

“Can you slow the fuck down? Gonna be the goddamn death of me if you keep driving like that,” Gavin snaps at him.

Nines’ vision blurs. Why in the hell can he not see the road in front of him?

“Would you _stop_!” he shouts, a vicious sneer on his lips. His head turns sharply to the seat beside him.

It’s empty.

With a shuddering exhale, Nines returns to looking at the road. The streets are laid out before him in his right eye, his hands moving the steering wheel as if he’s on autopilot. Due to the severe damage sustained by it, ERROR messages continually pop up, and at times, an odd static causes his vision to stutter and blink offline. Ralph had done the best he could to repair it but he had turned out to be as useless as Gavin, both morons proving that Nines has become the very thing he promised he would never be again, not after all he endured under his mother and Kamski.

He hates feeling this weak.

“Fine. Kill us. See if I fucking care.”

His eyes well.

Why. Won’t. It. Stop?

“Could have at least dicked me one last time,” Gavin says, unable to hide a small grin.

With a scream of rage, Nines chucks the nearest object within reach and smashes the window on the passenger’s side. The reconstruction fades, corrupted data errors appearing in his HUD. Like other memories he has of Gavin, he doesn’t know how this one ends, what happened after they arrived at their destination. Nines is notorious for holding a grudge, but when it comes to Gavin, he once had a way of forgiving all the stupid things the detective would do or say to welcome Nines’ ire. Likewise, Gavin always comes running back, even after enduring the worst of Nines’ behaviors.

Hopefully not this time. Nines made sure of that. There are lines he promised himself he’d never cross and tonight, he not only stepped over them but reminded Gavin what those boundaries are and how Nines has no problem violating them. Assaulting him and threatening his life? If that doesn’t send a clear message for Gavin to stay the fuck away, the hours it will take for Gavin to break free will at least give Nines the time he needs to finish the job or go down swinging. Perhaps it will give Gavin a chance to reflect on his shitty life choices and finally accept that he lost Nines a long time ago.

_You chose_ **him** , Nines thinks, with a rage that makes him feel as if he’s burning from the inside-out, a sick twisting that isn’t at all guilt as he remembers Gavin’s cries of pain. _You wanted something I could never give you and now you have to live with that._

It’s so much easier to tell himself Gavin deserves being subjected to Nines’ violence when Nines thinks of those nights locked away in Cyberlife while Gavin was being fucked by something wearing Nines’ face. Where was Gavin _then_?

Swerving sharply, Nines slams on the brakes to keep from rear-ending the car parked in front of him as he forces Gavin’s car off the road. A shitty job, as the right side ends up partway on the sidewalk. But Nines hasn’t any interest in correcting it as he’s about to abandon the vehicle and continue the remaining two blocks to Cyberlife on foot. There are other ways to get into the facility without triggering security, ones Nines has used before. His mother will likely anticipate he’ll re-enter this way, if she suspects Nines is reckless enough to return and finish what he started. Dr. Stern has been called many things, stupid not being one of them. She knows she’s on top of Nines’ list and Nines has never abandoned a hit.

But, there is one thing she doesn’t know, which Nines is counting on to aid him in the next phase of his plan.

Exiting the vehicle, Nines accesses the data he stole from RK900. As his shoes click on the sidewalk, the echo of them seems to reverberate at 1/8 the speed at which he processes sensory information, his damaged optical unit scrolling through files until he finds precisely what he’s looking for. Opening it, he uses his HUD to determine the most ideal point of entry. Similar to Nines, ‘Niles’ knows of multiple ways to enter in and out of Cyberlife and has codes for each entrance. Since Chloe sent Niles after him, she’ll be expecting him to return through one of these entrances to report back to her. Nines will need to avoid all synthetic personnel, as one scan from them will identify him as an organic-robot hybrid, but the human personnel…

_Construct a profile on RK900,_ he commands his personality software. Specifically, he needs to memorize RK900’s mannerisms from the few memories he has of the android when it was interacting with Amanda and Chloe and not following the profile it had on him. _Run personality: RK900._

Immediately, his posture corrects itself, his movements becoming stilted as he continues his approach to Cyberlife. His HUD fills with behavioral recommendations, everything from dictating specific speech patterns to facial expressions. Of course, the bloody android prefers using its ‘Niles’ voice even when it’s not running its Niles Deckert profile. Nines would snarl in disgust but his HUD strongly advises he doesn’t.

Oh well. He supposes suffering a little longer will be worth it until he’s finally rid this world of the last two names on his list. He wonders how his mother will feel to have her little plan used against her, and is already anticipating the look on her face in those final moments when she realizes he’s not one of her little pet robots.

Despite the warnings he receives, Nines smirks.

* * *

“You should have called me the second you knew he wasn’t Rich!” Connor argues, struggling to keep his voice even. He swerves around the only other vehicle in this lane, his recklessness fueled by his anger. It’s nearly four in the morning and not the best time to be hearing earth-shattering news, not when he hasn’t even had his morning coffee. Of course, leave it to Gavin to wait until he’s half naked and handcuffed to a pipe in some shady motel bathroom before Connor’s told any of what Gavin’s learned in the last six hours about his twin brother. “I would have helped both of you! Just what in the hell were you thinking?!”

“How much I don’t want to have this fucking conversation,” Gavin grumbles, loud enough that Connor can catch it, but not nearly as loud as the lieutenant.

“Well, we’re having it! Of all the stupid, careless shit I’ve put up with—!”

“You fucking sold me out to Kamski!” Gavin shouts above him, and Connor’s rant dies mid-sentence. “So maybe cut the ‘high ‘n mighty’ shit for five fucking seconds! You’re lucky I even trust your backstabbing ass after everything you put me through last year!”

A familiar guilt twists in Connor’s gut, the tension between them so thick, Connor almost feels as if he can’t breathe. He hates thinking of the desperation that led to doing what he did, how only the knowledge of Gavin’s connection to Elijah Kamski made him believe Gavin would mostly survive whatever plans his brother had for him. But if Connor’s being completely honest, even if he had strong reason to believe Kamski wanted Gavin dead, Connor would still make that trade every single time.

He’ll never admit this to Gavin, of course. In spite of everything Gavin had once meant to him, Gavin will never have the same worth as Rich. 

“You can’t bring that up every single time just to win an argument,” Connor mutters, though it’s killed his fire completely. 

“I’ll bring it up as many goddamn times as I want, Con.”

There’s an exhaustion in Gavin’s voice, one Connor confirms as he discreetly eyes the detective from his peripheral. The night’s taken its toll on him and Connor can’t say he blames Gavin for looking more his age than he has in a year, the lines on his forehead more prominent even in the dim glow of the passing street lights. If Gavin wasn’t so ready to fight Connor on everything the lieutenant says, Connor would want to tell Gavin to reconsider his relationship with Rich out of genuine concern for him. But Gavin never listened to his advice before and he certainly isn’t going to listen now.

After a minute of silence that seems to last unbearably long, Connor asks, “How was Rich when you last saw him?”

“Already told you: pissed, unhinged, ready to fucking murder for the sake of it—”

“No,” Connor cuts in, a tight frown on his lips, “I meant how _was_ he?”

Gavin’s quiet for a moment and when Connor takes his eyes off the road, he catches a flash of guilt that passes over the detective’s face. “...He says I should have known that Niles wasn’t him.”

_That_ is something Connor can’t help but agree with.

“We both should’ve,” Connor says, feeling sick at the knowledge that it was his own _mother_ who had locked Rich up for all those months. Hell, him and Hank had visited her for the Fourth of July and that entire time they suffered through a mostly cordial dinner, his brother wasn’t even allowed to step outside. What makes it worse is that though Gavin has always been questioning ‘Niles’, Connor knew almost from the start that there was something very seriously wrong with his ‘brother’. “He is my brother.”

“Yeah, who’s been avoiding you for _years_ ,” Gavin argues. And, wow, does Connor really not need to be reminded of that. “It’s not the same. I lived with it. I shared a fucking bed with it! How the fuck did I miss all the goddamn signs?”

“You saw what Cyberlife wanted you to see,” Connor answers, even though he knows Gavin’s not seeking to be pacified. The salty side of him that’s still bitter Gavin tried to run off with his brother without even informing him of who Niles Deckert really is wonders why he’s trying to make Gavin feel better. He reasons, however, that he needs Gavin’s cooperation if they’re going to stop Nines before he takes his vendetta too far. “Don’t blame yourself, Gav. You acted exactly as Cyberlife expected you to.”

“Fuck.”

From the corner of his eye, Connor sees Gavin tapping impatiently at his knee. Recognizing the old tick, Connor sighs heavily. “You can smoke in here. Just this once.”

Within seconds, Gavin’s lighting a cigarette pressed between his lips. Silence passes between them again, the only sound the rain hitting the windshield and Gavin exhaling out the partially opened window. If they were in Gavin’s car, Connor knows Gavin wouldn’t be so thoughtful as to leave his window open while he smokes.

“I thought you quit,” Connor comments as Gavin finishes off the cigarette. He tries to keep his tone light, but there’s something of an accusation in it.

“I did.”

The frosty edge in Gavin’s response is the only reminder Connor needs to back off. So, he does. But it doesn’t stop him from making furtive glances at Gavin, analyzing his clear signs of distress. Gavin’s unable to keep still, his knees bouncing as if he’s ready to bolt the moment the car stops, probably headfirst into whatever awaits them at Cyberlife. Connor knows he hasn’t slept, is still suffering from the effects of the drug in his system, and is gonna crash hard when he’s no longer running on adrenaline. In his current state, Connor should force Gavin to go home, since Gavin’s incapable of making rational decisions or thinking clearly.

But that’s also one of the reasons why Connor has him here. 

Drawing his eyes back to the road before Gavin catches him staring, Connor swallows the bile in his throat. Rich is on a rampage, about to murder everyone who gets between him and their mother. The only chance they have at reducing the casualties is throwing Gavin headfirst into the fire, whether Gavin’s aware of that or not. 

_I’m not using him if Gavin’s willing,_ Connor reasons, though it doesn’t change that so much of this feels like the last time Connor manipulated Gavin into ‘helping’ him.

But Connor _must_ save Amanda. And, most importantly, he has to save Rich from doing something he can never come back from.

They pull up to Cyberlife not long after that. The gated entrance is guarded more heavily than Connor expected, with security personnel stationed on both sides. Much to Connor’s irritation, there are people from the press blocking most of the street in front, most likely hoping to get a comment from Chloe or some hot scoop on what really went on at the benefit hours before. Connor then has no choice but to park his vehicle more than a block up the street.

“How the fuck are we supposed to get in there?” Gavin complains. He shifts in his seat, glancing back at the crowd.

Connor pulls out his phone. “With any luck, we will be invited inside.”

He dials.

“Who the fuck’s gonna let us in? Chloe?”

Connor ignores him. After a few rings, the call goes to voicemail, so Connor redials.

“Do I wanna know why the fuck you have Chloe’s number?”

Voicemail. Again.

“Con?”

“I’m not calling Chloe,” Connor says, only just keeping from snapping at Gavin. He really wishes he had stopped for coffee. “...Mother? It’s Connor… Yes, I’m aware of what CALLER ID is... No, I’m not doubting your ‘ability to recognize your own son’s voice,’ would you…? Yes, I know it’s four in the morning... No, I haven’t left Hank! Why would you think that?!”

Gavin snorts. Connor glares at him.

“Mother,” Connor says loudly in an attempt to speak over her, “I’m outside Cyberlife. I know about Rich.”

There’s a pause on the other end. Then, in a suspicious tone, Amanda asks, “What precisely do you think you know?”

It’s hard to contain the hurt and anger Connor feels, though his relationship with Amanda has remained strained for years with forced cordiality. He’s never forgiven her for disowning Rich, but he’s also felt indebted enough to her for adopting them that it’s kept him from severing the relationship. The fact that, in some small way, he knows Amanda genuinely cares for him is a reason he’s remained in her life. Though his love for Rich is unconditional, Connor would grudgingly acknowledge Rich was a problem child and needed the kind of attention and understanding Amanda never could have given him. 

Still, he only just keeps himself from saying, angrily, “I know you conducted an experiment on him at Cyberlife and that you’ve kept him there all this time.”

“For his protection,” Amanda snaps back, her voice taking on that condescending tone Connor hates. Connor half wonders if she’s not denying his accusations simply so she can speak to him like he’s a stupid child. “Were he to be arrested for falling back into his old habits, as would have inevitably happened, you know what the authorities would have done to him.”

Connor wants to shout and argue with her that she had no _right_ to treat his brother like a rabid animal that needs to be caged, but they need a way inside. “We can discuss this more later. Particularly why you didn’t tell me you’re working for Cyberlife. Is this really what you meant when you told Hank and I you were working with some private company through the university?”

“Cyberlife _is_ a private company.”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

“Gavin and I are here to help,” Connor says, tersely. “Let us in.”

“Did you have to bring _him_?”

Connor makes a face, not that Amanda can see it. He would have forgotten how much Amanda hates Gavin, if she didn’t remind him how much more ‘acceptable’ Hank is the few times a year Connor and his husband see her. “Yes, mother. You _need_ him. Now, will you tell us how we can get inside?”

The irate sound he receives tells him she’s made the connection. Her only chance of getting through to Rich is putting Gavin between her and her murderous son.

Gavin must notice the face Connor’s making because he mouths, “Does she still hate me?”

Connor sighs.

After Amanda gives them instructions, Connor drives around to a personnel entrance used mostly by the cleaning staff. Some press members lurk around, probably ready to pounce on anyone they think will have something valuable to say, so Connor grabs a beanie and tosses it to Gavin while grabbing a faded baseball cap for himself. It’ll be hard to hide his face, but at the same time he knows it’ll take even longer to get in if the press realize members of the DPD are here. 

“Put this on,” Connor says, pulling his hat low. “And follow my lead.”

As they leave the car, Gavin grumbles, “This really the best plan you got? Go to Amanda?”

“It’s the _only_ one I’ve got.”

And Connor hopes it’ll be enough. With Amanda’s life on the line, the only chance he has of saving his mother is bringing the one person he’s certain Rich will never kill. 

* * *

“That was my son,” Amanda says, putting away her phone. “It seems he and Detective Reed are aware of the situation and have chosen to aid us.”

The perpetual frown on her lips pulls in a tighter line as she ruminates over whether Connor or Detective Reed could be of any use to her. Though there is little doubt in her mind that her younger son has grown more unpredictable and wayward as he’s continued to indulge his most violent impulses, his attachment to Reed is something she can certainly manipulate in her favor. Had Connor not brought Reed to her, she would have been more inclined to turn him away as she can no longer trust Richard’s relationship with Connor would be enough. Connor’s never been able to control him, but the detective…

“How can you be so sure they’re not here to keep you from hurting Stern?” Chloe asks.

Amanda can sense her unease, and it’s not as if she is without her own doubts. But as unpredictable as Richard can be, there is one thing about Connor she can rely on: he knows exactly _what_ she saved him from when she took him from that orphanage and his sense of indebtedness will have him seeking any outcome that ends with both her and Richard still breathing. So long as he remains reminded of that, he will not turn on her.

Of course, when he learns what she has in store for Richard... well, she’ll cross that bridge once she comes to it.

“That is the only reason they are here,” Amanda answers. At Chloe’s confused look, she adds, “Connor wants Richard alive. He’s well aware of the most likely outcome should Richard prove foolhardy enough to attack our facility. If I know my son, he’s hoping to appeal to my responsibility as a mother to keep us from harming Richard.”

“We can’t let him live,” Chloe says, her voice dropping. “Not after what he’s done.”

“He is more valuable to us alive than dead.”

“There are donors ready to pull their funding and shareholders demanding we clean this up before Cyberlife stocks drop further,” Chloe replies, heatedly. “We have press surrounding the building waiting for a comment on what happened tonight. One lapse in our security and your _son_ has managed to ruin this company overnight!”

“All the more reason he needs to be contained,” Amanda argues, her voice dripping with condescension. This is why she hated dealing with people sometimes: their perspective is always too short-sighted to see the bigger picture. “He can control the rA9 virus. I suspect that the initial coding of the virus was rewritten to adapt to his physiology. That means that every unit that has since contracted the virus contains the new code and why units without artificial awareness can be manipulated by my son. The key to understanding how he did this is to study him.”

“The longer he remains alive, the more of a threat he is to everyone in this facility!”

“I will not be lectured by the same imbecile who sent an infected unit out into the public to commit murder!” Amanda snaps, now at the end of her patience. Chloe recoils slightly, biting her lip to keep from saying what must be on the edge of her tongue. If she’s as clever as Kamski believed, she knows any argument she has will only condemn her more for her hypocrisy. “Be aware, Ms, Weber, your fondness for a machine whose conscience remains untested is more of a threat to us than my son. At least with Richard, we are aware of _what_ his intentions are.”

“I trust RK.”

“And if anyone should fall victim to its impulses, that is on _you_ ,” Amanda hisses. “I spent my life working with machines, Ms. Weber. Yes, I have had my favorites,” and she can’t help but think with some bitterness how disappointing it is that she was unable to locate 60, “yet I would never allow myself to be manipulated by one of them. A machine can be replaced; a human life cannot.”

It still infuriates her that Chloe went into _her_ lab and brought RK900 back online. Her foolishness may have repercussions that neither of them have conceived of yet.

Taking the tablet she had been reading prior to Connor’s phone call, Amanda adds, with a quiet edge in her voice, “You better hope that machine comes back here.”

She’ll be damned if she has to step out _again_ in search of another machine Cyberlife has lost. With the media firestorm surrounding their company, the last thing she wants to deal with is what would happen if someone were to discover what RK900 really is.

“He will,” Chloe insists. “He was given explicit instructions to—”

“Director Weber.”

Chloe visibly startles at the interruption while Amanda raises a brow. Despite having the A.I. assistant for some time now, Chloe still doesn’t seem used to her virtual companion. “What is it, A.R.I.A.?”

“RK900 has returned to the facility,” A.R.I.A. replies. 

Chloe sighs with what may be relief. Amanda, on the other hand, narrows her eyes in suspicion. All of this seems a bit too _convenient._

“Where is RK900?” Amanda demands. 

The wall behind Chloe’s desk lights up, projecting camera feed from one of the lower levels. RK900 stands stoic, its face impassive, thirium splattered across its cheeks. It's clearly injured and Amanda’s about to request A.R.I.A. send the unit for repairs but then her critical eye catches the dried blood on its shirt. It's not wearing the clothing it had on while deactivated.

“It's not wearing its Cyberlife-issued uniform.”

Though it’s been some time since RK900 has had to wear its uniform, all androids in the lower levels are required to be in uniform at all times to differentiate them from the human staff. RK900 _had_ been in uniform after receiving his repairs. Amanda is certain of it.

“RK changed before returning to his search for Stern,” Chloe tells her. “He would be far less believable as Niles Deckert if his clothing declared his model number.”

In her paranoia, Amanda overlooked the obvious. Still, it does little to assuage that she doesn’t quite trust what she is seeing.

“A.R.I.A., conduct a scan on RK900,” Amanda orders.

“I thought A.R.I.A. was still being beta-tested,” Chloe whispers, as if trying to keep the A.I. from overhearing her. She glances hesitantly towards the camera feed and leans in closer to Amanda. “How does she have access to the rest of the facility?”

Amanda visibly stiffens. The lines on her face appear more stark as the frown she’s wearing deepens. “I uploaded her onto the main server to expand her capabilities. She can be our eyes and ears to ensure there are no other ‘incidents’ at Cyberlife.”

“How long ago was this?”

Amanda doesn’t answer, though she’s well aware that her silence condemns her. She uploaded A.R.I.A. to secretly watch the day-to-day activities at Cyberlife, giving A.R.I.A. access to data and information that would otherwise have been beyond her reach. While Chloe has been blindly transparent in their communication, Amanda’s paranoia could never be assuaged by something as naive as trust. 

“You’ve been spying on this entire facility with an untested A.I.,” Chloe says in a heated whisper. The betrayal is evident on her face as she seems to work hard not to raise her voice. “Why wasn’t I consulted?”

Perhaps if Amanda wasn’t so used to being disappointed, she would feel guilt for what she’s done. She doesn’t.

Amanda glares at her. “I did not trust your judgment.”

That silences Chloe, even if the director seems to want to continue to argue further. However, Amanda loses all interest in the argument as she reads through the information appearing in the left corner of the screen. _Unit RK900...Serial #313 248 317-87...Biocomponents: Online...O/S: BIOS 7.4...Damage: Right optical unit, central processor..._ **_WARNING: rA9 virus DETECTED_ **

A multitude of WARNINGs appear on the screen. Amanda, however, is most interested in the conclusion of A.R.I.A.’s analysis: _Species: Android._

“Send RK900 to my lab,” Amanda tells A.R.I.A. She watches for a moment as RK900 moves stiffly in the direction towards the elevators before shutting off the feed. Gathering the rest of her things, Amanda doesn’t wait for a dismissal as she approaches the door. “I suspect the damage he sustained came from my son. Perhaps he will know of Richard’s whereabouts.”

“I want to see him,” Chloe says, falling in step behind her.

Amanda stops, pivots sharply on her heels, and addresses the younger woman coolly, “I believe you have done enough tonight, Director.”

“I have the power to replace you,” Chloe says and Amanda’s a little surprised it’s taken her this long to throw her position in the roboticist’s face. “Or have you forgotten that?”

“Without me, none of these androids would be functional,” Amanda answers. Then, as calmly as she can, she adds, “You _need_ me, Director. And if anything that RK900 has to say proves fruitful, I may keep it online instead of shutting it down for that stunt you pulled earlier.”

Chloe deflates, though there is a hardness in her eyes that Amanda has never seen before. Good. The director can afford to develop more of a backbone instead of doubting every decision she’s ever made. “Inform me as soon as he’s repaired.”

“My son and the detective should arrive at your office shortly,” Amanda says. “Find out whatever you can from them.”

Chloe gives a curt nod and Amanda takes it as her cue to leave. Turning on her heels, she exits Chloe’s office to head down the many levels to her lab. She doesn’t know why, but she still can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t as it seems.

* * *

Connor and Gavin don’t say much to each other on the way to Chloe’s office. There was a time when Gavin would welcome the quiet, especially when the tension between them was at its thickest and every remark Connor made was dripping with judgment. Gavin’s never had the patience for the lectures; Connor’s thankfully long since stopped trying to change him. But now, with the echoes of their shoes bouncing off the eerily pristine walls of the hallway, Gavin wishes Connor would say _something._ He feels as if there are eyes watching them and the longer the silence stretches, the more antsy he gets.

So, Gavin breaks the silence first.

“You really gonna trust her after what she did to Nines?” Gavin asks.

Connor makes an irate sound. “She’s my _mother_ , Gav.”

“Don’t mean she’s not gonna fuck us over.”

Connor sighs but says nothing else.

With neither speaking once more, Gavin feels the weight of everything pressing down on him in a way that makes his knees wobble and stomach twist with discomfort. Being trapped with his own thoughts for the first time since Connor freed him is making Gavin acknowledge those uncomfortable truths he’s been avoiding all night. Nines has changed and not in the ways Gavin wanted. Never had Gavin thought Nines would throw him around like a rag doll and mark his rage in Gavin’s flesh. The cuts and bruises in Gavin’s wrists and side burn with trust so fundamentally broken, each step forward has become a fruitless effort to preserve something they’ve both lost. The doubt in his mind is telling him that the only reason Gavin’s not dead is because both of them are pretending.

_He doesn’t give a shit, so why the fuck should you?_

Gavin can’t even think of Nines without remembering how hard Nines threw him to the floor. His legs buckle and Gavin stops, worried he is actually going to be sick. He stares mindlessly ahead, not really seeing anything, his vision beginning to blur.

_How the fuck can you do this to me?_ he wishes he could scream this at Nines, and maybe get a fucking answer. _After_ **_everything_ **?

“Gav?”

Gavin blinks.

Connor’s staring at him with a look of concern.

“I don’t like this,” Gavin mumbles with a forced gruffness. He pushes past Connor, still not able to shake the sense of being spied on. What the fuck is it about this place? “Feels like we’re in one of those bad sci-fi movies where Psycho-bot kills every asshole in the place.”

“I think you’re giving Cyberlife more credit than it deserves,” Connor argues, following Gavin closely. At least if they’re arguing about this bullshit, Gavin doesn’t have to think about Nines. “There’s nothing to indicate Cyberlife has created an A.I. that wants to ‘kill all humans’.”

A red light blinks on a camera up ahead, sending a chill down Gavin’s spine. In a low whisper, he indicates it and asks, “This shit doesn’t make you think of HAL 9000?”

Connor’s scoff is enough to tell Gavin he’s in no mood to entertain his paranoia. “It’s a _camera_ , Gav. Are you really surprised security is keeping an eye on us after all the break-ins at tech companies this summer?”

Once rounding the corner, Gavin feels somewhat at ease. At least he can no longer see that security camera that seemed to follow them, always on edge whenever he’s on the receiving end of surveillance. Call him a hypocrite, he hates the idea of some prick sitting on the other end spying on him. They pass two security guards, and Connor nods politely to them, before they reach the director’s office. Neither waits to be invited inside.

“Lieutenant Anderson and Detective Reed have arrived.”

Gavin jumps at the sound of the woman’s voice, not expecting anyone else to be in the room with them. He glances around the office hastily, but only sees Chloe leaning against her desk. That disturbing sensation he hasn’t been able to shake grows tenfold.

“Good morning, Detective. Lieutenant,” the Cyberlife CEO says.

Chloe indicates the chairs in front of her, but neither Connor nor Gavin take a seat.

“What the fuck was that?!”

It takes a moment for Chloe to realize what Gavin is referring to. “That was A.R.I.A., my virtual assistant. She didn’t mean to startle you.”

Gavin gives Connor a look, but the asshole pretends not to notice. 

“I was expecting my mother to be here,” Connor says.

“You will have to excuse Dr. Stern. There’s a matter in the lab that requires her attention. She should be rejoining us shortly,” Chloe replies. 

“What ‘matter’?”

Chloe becomes visibly uncomfortable. Though Connor waits for her to answer, Gavin’s patience went out the door hours before. He’s been roofied, threatened, and chained to a goddamn sink, and all he wants is for everyone to stop treating every conversation like it’s 3-D chess. “No use hiding shit from us, Clo. You assholes want us to keep Nines from going Jack the Ripper on this place, you better start answering some fucking questions.”

Gavin is suddenly reminded of those crime scene photos of Murphy. Fuck. And Nines wasn’t nearly as pissed off then as he is now. Even he doesn’t want to know exactly _what_ Nines is capable of when he’s this angry.

“He’ll never make it inside,” Chloe says, with a confidence that’s only making Gavin’s unease spiral. How in the fuck can she be so goddamn sure? “I’m more concerned with what he’ll do to Cyberlife out there. We can’t have him impersonating Niles again. You saw the damage he did tonight.”

“Because you assholes locked him up!” Gavin snaps. “The fuck did you think would happen? He’d just break out and go on his merry fucking way and forget this shit? For fuck’s sake, we should have you pricks arrested for the shit you made him do!”

“He’s more of a threat out there than he ever was in here!” Chloe argues and it only enrages Gavin further.

“You don’t fucking get to decide that!” he shouts. His voice hitches, cracking with both his despair and humiliation, as he continues. “You assholes don’t get to send your fucking robots out there—fucking making everyone think they’re—they’re fucking…!”

He kicks the nearest chair as hard as he can and it goes flying into a bookshelf, documents and chemical texts crashing to the floor. He’s shaking so hard, he has to ball his hands into fists to keep them at his side, to bury that urge to grab and throw and destroy more of the bitch’s office. They made that machine that violated him—over and over again, abusing his trust. They fucking—!

His vision stings and he hastily swipes at his eyes. Those fucking assholes! They ruined everything! Why in the fuck is he even here? He should just let Nines and them destroy each other, stop giving a shit. Go back to the penthouse, grab his fucking cat and crash at Tina’s. Forget all this fucking shit every happened and just—

“—after we looked the other way! We _allowed_ Cyberlife to get away with so much and this is how you repaid our silence?!” Connor sneers.

Gone is the mask of ‘altruism’ Connor often hides behind, treating every one of his selfish actions as if it’s been done for the ‘greater good’. Connor’s not even pretending that he hasn’t actively participated in the same corruption Gavin has, all so that Nines could be spared a lifetime in max. 

“We tried to rehabilitate Stern,” Chloe insists and Gavin’s not buying a single word the two-faced prick is saying. “We never expected his mental state to deteriorate so rapidly after we replaced his processor. We wanted to be sure he would not be a threat—!”

“You never gave a shit about him or any of us!” Gavin shouts above both of them. “You fucking used us for your fucking experiment! Why in the fuck should we believe a goddamn word you’re saying?!”

“Gavin!”

“Fuck off, Con!” Gavin snaps, slapping away Connor’s hand. He storms right into Chloe’s space, trapping her between him and the desk as he continues to shout, “You’re under fucking arrest for—!”

“Gav!” Connor says more insistently, forcefully yanking the detective back by his coat. Gavin’s about to tell him off once more but the words die on his tongue as he sees what Connor’s pointing at. The screen behind Chloe’s desk must have turned on at some point during their argument. In the feed, Gavin can see Amanda in one of the labs speaking with—

His eyes widen.

“A.R.I.A.,” Chloe says sharply, stepping away from Gavin and Connor. If she’s shaken, nothing in her demeanor gives it away. “Shut that off.”

The virtual assistant does not respond.

“How long has he been here?” Connor demands.

Chloe glances between the screen and the detectives. She seems reluctant to answer but then does so hesitantly after a moment. “RK arrived not too long ago. We believe he sustained damage in an altercation with Stern. Amanda is down in the labs assessing the repairs he will need.”

Gavin’s almost surprised that Chloe’s not even pretending ‘Niles’ is anything other than an android. He’s even more surprised that after they left it with Ralph, it managed to return to Cyberlife. It wasn’t even standing after Nines put all those bullets in it. How in the fuck did it…?

He stares more closely at the android on the screen. 

“...That’s not RK!” Gavin blurts out.

The ‘android’ withdraws a gun and fires at Amanda’s knee cap. The doctor collapses and a cruel, familiar smirk twists on the cyborg’s lips. Chloe chokes back a sound of surprise.

“No!” Connor utters.

He rushes to the door just as it seals shut. He tries to open it, pounds and tugs at it but an electronic lock prevents it from opening. Gavin joins him and begins mashing the keys on the panel beside the door but nothing seems to work. Chloe, meanwhile, watches in horror as Nines approaches the doctor on the screen.

“Chloe!” Gavin shouts. “A little fucking help here!”

She snaps her head in their direction, her eyes wide and filled with fear. Then, realizing what they’re doing, she commands, “A.R.I.A! Unlock the door _now!_ ”

No response.

“A.R.I.A.! I gave you an order!”

Gavin hits the keys more insistently and then yelps as the panel shocks him.

“I am afraid I cannot allow you to leave, Director,” the A.I. says.

An icy chill rushes down the detective’s spine.

Well, _fuck._

* * *

When Nines entered Cyberlife, he hadn’t expected to confront A.R.I.A. Within moments of assessing its capabilities, his preconstruction software detailed every outcome, the possibility of slipping past the virtual assistant only occurring in 5.43% of scenarios. Similar to the androids his mother created, A.R.I.A. was able to determine that he has both organic and synthetic parts and recognized him as the _RK900 Cyborg, Serial #313 248 317-87_ , despite that he shares the same number as RK. In short, Nines was completely fucked within less than 30 seconds of sneaking into the facility.

“You are trespassing in this facility,” the A.I. informed him, a red light flashing at the wall panel where its voice was projecting. The door behind him sealed shut, an electronic lock preventing his escape. Nines had nowhere to go but forward. “The escaped cyborg unit RK900 is to be terminated on sight! Remain where you are until Cyberlife personnel arrive— _zzzth_!”

The odd glitching sound A.R.I.A. made caught Nines’ attention. Instead of attempting to convince it he was RK—a course of action he would undoubtedly fail—Nines accessed the A.I.’s network and, as he suspected, the command to inform the rest of the facility of his presence was being blocked. With his hand pressed to the wall panel, he could detect all the error messages as he interfaced with A.R.I.A. 

_rA9_

He didn’t know how it had become infected. His reconstruction software came up with a number of possibilities, most of them concluding RK had accidentally infected the virtual assistant when it had been brought back online. Or maybe Nines infected enough androids that one of them came into contact with A.R.I.A. and spread the virus. He could waste all night theorizing and never be completely satisfied. However it happened, he wasn’t about to squander this opportunity.

_A.R.I.A.,_ he commanded, _where are Chloe and my mother?_

On the small screen in the wall panel, A.R.I.A. had shown him Chloe and Amanda in Chloe’s office. They were arguing.

_Inform Dr. Stern that RK900, the android, has returned,_ Nines ordered the A.I.

He uploaded the profile he was running, just to be safe. Now that A.R.I.A. recognized him as ‘RK’, Nines could enter any area of the facility without the A.I. snitching on him. More importantly, he was able to reorder A.R.I.A.’s objectives and have it prioritize any command he issued over those it receives from either Amanda or Chloe. It seemed poetic that the very technology his mother spent her entire life creating was about to turn on her.

“Dr. Stern has ordered RK900 to return to her lab for repairs,” A.R.I.A. told him.

And that is where Nines finds himself now, standing rigidly in the center of her lab. A place that, even as he returned to it, brought with it a tightness to his lungs. For a split second, he felt this illogical panic as he recalled the many times he had been strapped to one of the tables as she prodded at his wires, pulling him apart by all his synthetic pieces and rearranging him until she was slightly less disappointed with what resulted. More ways to restrict him, chain him, make him as ‘obedient’ as she could while leaving him aware enough that he could only watch as his body and mind became less his own.

Cunt.

Well, that ends tonight. He could have gone up to Chloe’s office: nothing is stopping him. Amanda and Chloe have wisely powered down all their android personnel and only the androids would realize he’s not one of them. But it seemed more fitting that when Amanda dies, she does so in the very lab where she stripped him of the last vestiges of his morality. She thinks he’s no better than a rabid animal? He’s about to show her how right she is about that.

“RK900, status report.”

His gaze is unwavering as he watches her walk purposefully into the room. Though there’s a forced neutrality in her tone, the small tells in her body language informs him that she is on her guard. 

A test. 

“My operating system is fully functional, though I have sustained damage to my processor,” Nines admits. While there is truth in that, he embellishes the extent of the damage to see if he can trick her into believing he is no threat to her. “I am unable to accurately reconstruct a layout of my immediate surroundings, nor reliably assess the behaviors of the humans I encounter. My retinal scanners may need to be replaced.”

She stares hard at him for a moment, having stopped some feet away. Halfway between him and the exit. Her eyes fall to the coat he’s wearing, the one he found in the backseat of Gavin’s car. He needed something to hide the bullet wound in his shoulder and the reopened stitches at his side. Both injuries burn from even the slightest movement, but his expression remains impassive as he returns her stare. She’s reluctant to drop her guard.

“Chloe was never supposed to reactivate you,” she says, after a long moment. Her dark eyes flit across his face, seeking some reaction. “Not until we have removed the rA9 virus from your system.”

Nines could honestly give zero fucks if Cyberlife chose to turn their pet project into scrap metal. It makes it that much easier to remain impassive. But... would Niles remain impassive at the prospect of never being reactivated again?

_It is loyal but not a mindless slave,_ Nines decides, the hint of a frown creasing his brows. A look that signifies the conflict Niles would feel at following orders that are at odds with its desire to remain online. 

“Contracting the rA9 virus was a minor setback,” Nines says. “My objective is unchanged.”

“And what is that objective?”

Nines tilts his head ever slightly, one of the few gestures he’s aware RK has adapted. Ironically, it is something Connor is more likely to do than Nines when being asked a question where the answer is self-evident.

“To find and stop Richard Stern,” Nines answers. “Though it was against my programming, I have assessed that the threat Richard Stern poses to the general public makes him too dangerous to rehabilitate. I was to find and terminate him.”

The frown deepens on Amanda’s lips and for a moment, Nines considers that maybe Chloe had only wanted him captured. But that was not what Niles had indicated when it had confronted him earlier…

“How loyal are you to Cyberlife?” Amanda asks.

She takes a few steps forward, cautiously, and then stops, waiting.

“I never asked for autonomy,” Nines says. “I only wish to fulfill my objective. I am at Cyberlife’s disposal.”

Another two steps.

“Would you place your duty to Cyberlife before your affection for Detective Reed?”

Nines freezes. The sudden stiffening of his posture does not go unnoticed by Amanda as her dark eyes narrow. Nines knows Niles’ answer as well as Amanda does.

_No._

Her idiotic machine is as foolish as Nines is. It really would throw away _everything_ for someone it was programmed to ‘love’.

“No,” Nines answers.

He should have murdered it. Even admitting how attached it’s become to Gavin makes Nines want to be sick. 

Amanda stops in front of him. She’s close enough that he can smell her perfume, his olfactory receptors detecting the overpowering stench of roses. It reminds him so much of the times he was forced into her zen garden that for a moment, his chest is seized with that earlier panic, the air in his lungs trapped. He fights to keep from expressing his discomfort, to not flinch back.

“That is why I am going to need to deactivate you, RK,” Amanda explains, with a coolness that reflects the iciness in her gaze. She indicates the table on her left and Nines nearly feels his knees buckle as he recalls too succinctly the things she did to him on its pristine metal surface. “Only until we can be certain the rA9 virus is wiped from your system. Your attachment to Detective Reed is... unanticipated. You seem to forget that it is all simply code.”

She tilts her head, gauging his reaction once more. Nines fights to tear his eyes away from the operating table, burying his panic beneath the surge of fury that ignites inside of him.

“Return to the operating table.”

Nines flits his cool eyes between the table and her. “No.”

“RK900,” Amanda says, her thumb hovering over the corner of her tablet, “I will not repeat myself. Do not make this more difficult than it has to be.”

_A.R.I.A.,_ Nines orders, _seal the doors._

The doors seal shut. Amanda jumps, glancing back over her shoulder.

“A.R.I.A! Open the doors!”

The A.I. ignores her. Though she fights to remain stone-faced, Nines can see the hint of panic creep into his mother’s expression. Her thumb presses the screen of her tablet.

“Open the doors.”

But Nines doesn’t. Soon, shouting can be heard on the other side of them.

“They will blast their way in here,” Amanda warns Nines, “unless A.R.I.A. cooperates.”

_Let them try,_ Nines thinks. How many times had he tried to escape from his own room? The doors at Cyberlife have been made to keep whatever is inside locked away. _A.R.I.A., reactivate twenty TROJAN units. Order them to terminate all humans._

Gunshots, followed by screams. 

The color slowly drains from Amanda’s face.

“Richard,” she whispers, a quiet anger underlying her tone, “what have you _done_?”

So his mother is not as stupid as he was starting to believe. Credit where credit is due, at least she can tell the difference between her child and one of her robotic creations.Well, _after_ she’d be given enough clues. 

_Share this feed with Director Chloe,_ Nines informs A.R.I.A. He glances up towards the camera as its red light blinks the same color burning at his temple. _I want her to see exactly what I intend to do to her as soon as I finish killing my mother._

“Only what is expected of me,” Nines says, a slow, cruel smirk spreading on his lips. “Did you really think I could be reasoned with? After all you have taken from me?”

He withdraws his gun, firing point blank at her knee cap. Blood splatters across the tile as Amanda cries out in pain, her legs crumpling beneath her. Nines’ laugh is cold and the elation he feels at finally spilling some of her blood is a catharsis no drug has ever been able to give him.

“Enjoy your final moments, mother,” he mocks, leaning down. He uses the gun to tilt her face up towards him, his smile growing maniacal as he sees the obvious pain she’s in. He wants her to feel nothing but humiliation and agony in her last moments, to experience that same helplessness she subjected him to. Once and for all, she’ll understand what it means to be _nothing_. “Your androids are killing everyone in this facility as we speak.”

She’ll die along with her legacy. All the world will remember of Amanda Stern is how much of a failure she was.

“After they have finished here, I will unleash all of them on Detroit,” Nines promises, his voice dropping to an excited whisper. “Cyberlife will be _ruined_.”

“Detective Reed is here,” Amanda grunts out. Nines’ heart stops. “And so is Connor.”

_What?!_

That’s not possible. She has to be bluffing.

“I will not fall for another of your deceptions,” he hisses.

“I would not lie about this, Richard,” she says, her voice hitching in pain. “I gave security instructions to dispose of Detective Reed if the RK900 ‘turned on us.’”

Though his processor is damaged, there is nothing in his mother’s voice or body language to indicate that she’s lying. He hesitates, spending moments longer than he’d liked to determine how much he can trust her words.

“All of Detroit will know of the android attack in Cyberlife by the morning,” Amanda adds, a smug kind of calm in her words that’s begun to have its effect. He shouldn’t listen to her. He knows better. “Imagine how devastated the DPD will be to learn that Detective Reed is one of the casualties.”

Not wishing to entertain what may be an attempt to buy more time, Nines tries to ignore the voice of doubt as he presses the gun to his mother’s head. But even without his preconstruction software, he knows the likelihood of Gavin following him— _if_ the detective managed to free himself—is too high to ignore.

_A.R.I.A., locate Detective Gavin Reed and Lieutenant Connor Anderson._

When A.R.I.A. confirms they are in Chloe’s office, Nines cries out in rage, smashing the handle of his gun in his mother’s nose. The resulting crack is less satisfying than he’d hoped.

_Cut the feed!_ He orders the A.I. _And seal them in the office. Ignore all overrides! Nothing is to enter or leave Director Chloe’s office!_

To be safe, he orders the TROJANS to not harm Gavin or Connor. Fruitless, as it’s the human security he needs to worry about. But with any luck, the androids will deal with them.

_Now, to deal with her,_ he thinks, with an angry snarl. Part of him had considered being merciful enough to make Amanda’s death swift. But that is no longer an option.

“How in the hell did he get in here?!” Nines screams at her. He yanks her back by her hair, forcing her to meet his eyes as she clutches at her broken nose. Gavin doesn’t have clearance. He doesn’t know any of the alternate entrances to enter the facility. There’s no way he could have snuck in, which means…

Nines’ lips curl in a sneer. “You let him in.”

“Connor felt, as I did, that Detective Reed would be the only one who can reason with you,” she explains. 

Nines’ blood runs cold. No. Connor wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t _dare_ betray Gavin again. Yet... Nines remembers how, in spite of everything, Connor _chose_ to remain a Stern even after their mother removed all but Richard’s name when she abandoned him. Connor remained heir to the Stern wealth, benefited from a connection that meant he’d never struggle or want for anything. When it wasn’t the name ‘Stern’ that got him past the yellow tape, it was his work with Kamski that got him his fancy promotion. Connor’s used people as much as Nines has. The difference? Nines has never used _any_ of his connections to hurt Connor.

And Connor pushing Gavin headfirst into the crossfire to manipulate Nines into backing down? He’s not only stabbing Nines in the back, but also driving that knife he left in there years ago even deeper.

“You really thought that if you hid behind Gavin that I would show you mercy?” Nines whispers, a dangerous edge in his voice. He’s never been this enraged, never felt this tempted to not only kill the bitch who raised him but to eviscerate his remaining flesh and blood. 

“I can _help_ you, Richard,” she says, her voice slightly muffled by the hand trying to stave off the bleeding from her nose. Though her face is scrunched in pain, there is something in her eyes that Nines knows better than to trust. “The world wants you dead or locked away. _I_ can help you regain that control you have lost.”

“Why should I believe _anything_ you say?” he demands.

“Because,” she hisses, “you are _my_ son.”

She says it not with affection but as if she’s stating a fact both of them have come to reluctantly accept. No longer is she denying their connection, but affirming it.

“I have seen your potential and I know what you can become,” she continues. “If I didn’t believe that, I would have turned you over to the authorities months ago. No son of mine is going to rot in prison.”

“That never stopped you before,” he replies, angrily. “You left me to ‘rot in prison’ when you could no longer benefit from having a charity case as a son!”

“I had hoped to correct your behavior by being tough on you,” Amanda answers, with what could be regret. Or, desperation. With her life on the line, Nines doesn’t doubt she’ll say anything to appeal to what little affection he once had for her. “I see the error of that now.”

He could laugh. Even her apology is not an actual apology. Amanda’s pride would never allow her to do something as humbling as utter the words, _I’m sorry._

“You want to be Niles Deckert? Give me the chance to cure you of the rA9 virus and I will give you the life you were promised.”

He’s quiet as she says this, pretends to consider it, for all of ten seconds. For a cyborg, ten seconds is enough time to run numerous preconstructions on a variety of scenarios a typical human would never conceive of. It’s nine seconds longer than she deserves and he can only fake entertaining any more of her empty promises for so long.

“I believe that ship has sailed, _mother_ ,” he sneers.

Grabbing her roughly, he throws her onto the operating table, forces her down with his prosthetic hand. She struggles and curses at him, teeth stained crimson as she demands he lets her go. But as her cries grow more desperate, his mirth consumes him until his hysterical laughter drowns out her irritating attempts to threaten or bargain with him. Much like she did to him all those times, he straps her in, being particularly vicious with the one he tightens just beneath her blown out knee cap. The pain she is enduring now has nothing on what’s in store for her.

“There’s no use relaxing, _mother_ ,” he cackles, continuing to throw the word around as if it’s a slur. Given what he’s known of ‘mothers’, it may as well be. “This is going to hurt. A lot.”

Removing some of the tools from a nearby tray—instruments meant for opening a chassis and piercing the hardest of synthetic components—Nines activates the tiny saw and lowers it towards his mother’s chest. Amanda spent so many hours acquainting herself with Nines’ components, it’s only fair he return the favor.

* * *

“Why won’t this door open?!”

Connor throws himself at it once more, swallowing a grunt of pain as his shoulder slams into the hard metal. It’s pointless; he knows it is. But he has to do _something_ , needs to get to his mother before it’s too late. Beside him, Chloe punches in code after pass code, swearing under her breath as it once again fails. They’re quickly running out of time.

“A.R.I.A., activate protocol EMD4509!” Chloe shouts.

“Protocol _overridden_.”

“Fucking Christ! Why the fuck would you let Psycho-bot control the doors?!”

“She is a virtual assistant!” Chloe snaps at Gavin. “She is only supposed to _assist_!”

“You telling me nobody thought, ‘How can this shit go south?’ when you assholes installed her?” Gavin snaps back, his panic verging on hysteria. “Have none of you ever seen any fucking sci-fi movie before?!”

Trying to calm his ex-boyfriend is the last thing Connor wants to deal with right now. 

“Your paranoia is very _unhelpful_!” Chloe beats him to it.

“I’m fucking _right_ and you know it!”

“Arguing will not open this door!” Connor shouts above both of them. Chloe flinches while Gavin snaps his mouth shut, though Connor can tell there’s so much more the detective wants to say. Luckily, whatever it is, he keeps it to himself. “Chloe, is this keypad the only way to unlock it?”

“Yes, when the electronic lock has been activated.”

He lifts his gun and indicates for Chloe to move. As soon as she’s out of the way, he fires. A few sparks spit out of the bullet hole, then the red light on the door blinks a few times before disappearing with a loud _CLICK_. The three exchange a look and Gavin tries the door. It opens.

“WARNING: DOOR MALFUNCTION!” A.R.I.A. says. “WARNING: DOOR MALFUNCTION!”

With a sneer, Gavin withdraws his gun and fires on the speaker. The voice fizzles until it becomes a low static but the light on the corner of the screen blinks red rapidly.

“Was that really necessary?” Connor snaps at him.

“It’s fucking irritating!”

“Bullets, Gav! Do you have enough to be wasting on a machine that has access to the _entire_ facility?!”

Gavin glares at him. 

With a sigh, Connor pushes past him into the hallway. But if Gavin thought A.R.I.A. was irritating, an even louder signal wails outside Chloe’s office. The ringing is so loud, Connor finds himself shouting above it, “What does this mean?!”

“EVACUATION PROTOCOLS IN EFFECT,” A.R.I.A.’s voice echoes throughout the facility. “REMAIN CALM AND PROCEED TO THE B-LEVEL EMERGENCY EXIT!”

“What she said!” Chloe answers. Her brows are furrowed in confusion. “But I don’t understand why she’s sending everyone to the basement!”

“Director Weber!” The three of them turn as two security guards rush over, one of the guards bleeding from a wound on his shoulder. Connor feels his stomach sink. “TROJANS are attacking the facility! They’re blocking all the exits! Everyone that’s tried to leave has been killed!”

Chloe pales. “All our scientists...”

_Why would you do this?_ Connor thinks, that twisting in his chest filling him with a shame that not even his love for his brother can let him ignore. Very little besides vengeance can satisfy his brother’s thirst when Rich decides he’s been ‘wronged’.

“I need to stop him!” Connor says. “Where’s the lab?”

“It’s at the lowest level of the facility!” Chloe answers. She hands Connor a key card. “Use this on the elevator at the end of the hallway! It will give you direct access to every floor!”

He pockets it, impatient to leave despite the danger. Every second he wastes here is one that Amanda spends enduring Rich’s anger. “With any luck, I’ll get him to unlock the exits! Until then, try and find another way out!”

“I’m coming with you!” Gavin says.

“No!” Connor replies. “You need to get Chloe and everyone else out of here!”

“Bullshit! I’m not gonna fuck off while you—!”

“Gavin!” The sharpness of his tone makes the argument die on Gavin’s lips. He grips Gavin by both the detective’s shoulders. “Please! The only chance Chloe and any of these people have is with _you!_ ”

Gavin stares hard at him, silent. The guilt must be splashed all across Connor’s face, because not a moment later, Gavin’s shoving Connor back. 

“Is that why you brought me here?! To save these pricks after what they did to him?!” Gavin snarls. “Fuck, after what they did to _me?!_ ”

Connor doesn’t meet Gavin’s eyes. How can he when Gavin’s simply stating the facts?

“I don’t have time for this!” Connor snaps, moving purposefully past Gavin. “I need to save my mother!”

Gavin grabs Connor roughly, stumbles a few steps as the lieutenant drags him along. “We came here for _Nines!_ What makes you think these assholes deserve saving?!”

Connor rips his arm out of Gavin’s grip, turns sharply and uses his slight height advantage to stare down at his ex-partner. To Gavin’s credit, the detective doesn’t back down. “Because even if what they’ve done is terrible, _nobody_ deserves what Richard is capable of. Not even Kamski deserved it.”

He knows he’s hit a sore spot as Gavin steps back from him. Gavin’s never openly talked about it but Connor’s always been able to read him, could tell that Gavin struggled with the choice he made in the aftermath. He uses it now to appeal to that side of Gavin that wants to be _better_ , to not let history repeat itself.

It’s manipulative. And it works.

“You’re a real piece of work, Con,” Gavin says, a tremor in his voice. “You keep playing people like this, you’re gonna get what’s coming to you.”

But as cold as the threat is, there’s no bite to it. Only hurt.

Oh well. It’s not as if Connor’s not used to Gavin’s hurt feelings.

“Evacuate as many people as you can.”

Leaving Gavin with Chloe, Connor strides the rest of the way towards the elevator, the image of Gavin’s betrayal burned in his brain. He tries to bury it as he steps inside, punches the floor number, and stares down at his feet as the elevator begins to descend. But it won’t leave him. No matter how many times he’s used Gavin, it doesn’t get easier.

“Lieutenant Anderson.”

He lifts his blurred gaze from his feet. The lights in the elevator turn red.

Oh, _fuck._

“A.R.I.A,” Connor starts, carefully. He hadn’t considered that the A.I. would also have control of the elevator. “I’m going to see my brother. Where is he?”

The elevator stops halfway to its destination. The lieutenant’s heart begins to pound rapidly. What if she traps him in here until Rich has finished maiming every person on his list?

_Don’t let her see how terrified you are._

But he realizes that’s stupid advice almost as soon as the thought pops in his head.

“RK900 is with Dr. Stern in her laboratory,” A.R.I.A. answers. Since she mentions his mother, Connor clings to that thread of hope that she is still alive. “He is expecting you.”

That... sounds far more ominous than he’d like.

The lights in the elevator blink to a pale blue and it continues its descent. Though no more words are exchanged, Connor eyes the camera in the corner warily until the elevator reaches the last floor.

“RK900 is in laboratory 15-D at the end of the corridor.”

Connor jumps as A.R.I.A. says this. He hadn’t forgotten her ever watchful ‘gaze’, but he wasn’t expecting her to address him again.

“Thank you, A.R.I.A.”

The doors open and Connor cautiously exits. His blood runs cold as he takes in the sight before him. There are bodies, freshly killed, strewn across the hallway. Some thrown into broken windows, others left to bleed out from a number of bullet wounds. The one closest to him had one of his arms ripped out, his face contorted in pain as his unseeing eyes stare up at Connor. Connor shudders.

_The androids did this,_ Connor tells himself. 

At least, he hopes so.

He’s careful as he steps around the bodies and tries to avoid stepping in the pools of blood. The emergency lights flickering in the hallway certainly don’t help to diminish the horror of the scene, the eerie quiet making his footsteps echo louder. Connor’s seen some messed up stuff on the job but even that’s never prepared him for the damage Nines can unleash when his brother sets his mind to it. When he finally makes it past the dead security guards, he stops in front of the lab door and pulls out the key card Chloe gave him. Swiping it in the lock, the door clicks and slides open. 

“Mother!” Connor exclaims, rushing to where she’s strapped to the table. “Are you o—?”

The card key falls from his hand, his mouth open in a silent scream. He gapes in shock at all the blood—all the _parts—_ of her that have been…

Bile burns in his throat, Connor stumbling back a few paces as his eyes well. He doesn’t know if he wants to cry in despair or keel over and vomit. His knees begin to buckle and the only thing keeping him upright is his refusal to collapse in the intestines that have pooled around the table.

“R-Rich...” Connor utters in disbelief. “H-How could you…?”

He tears his eyes away, tears spilling down his cheeks. He needs to get away from here, he needs to—

Connor cries out in pain as a fist flies in his face. He trips back into the countertop opposite his mother, bloodied instruments flying from its surface as he tries to right himself. But just as he turns his head to see _who_ is attacking him, another fist connects with his jaw hard enough that he feels the bone crack.

“You brought him here!”

Connor blocks the next blow, but it doesn’t matter. Rich grabs him roughly by his coat and uses his prosthetic arm to fling Connor back towards the lab entrance. Connor crashes to the floor, reeling from the pain shooting up his side. He scrambles to get back to his feet, but there’s no way he can outrun Rich, who pounces on him like a feral dog. Snarling, Nines slams Connor against the wall.

“I offered him a way out and you fucked it up!” Rich shouts, his eyes wild. 

Connor’s never been afraid of his twin, has always believed that even at his worst, Rich would never do him any serious harm. But seeing his mother’s body, mutilated almost beyond recognition, Connor no longer believes that.

“He _wanted_ to be here,” Connor says, trying to reason with Rich. “I couldn’t stop him!”

“Bullshit! _You_ brought him here to help _yourself_!”

He slams Connor hard against the wall again, the back of the lieutenant’s head hitting it with enough force to leave his gaze swimming. His grunt of pain echoes in his throat and as Rich’s bloodied hands twist the lapels of his coat, Connor can’t help but feel ill at the knowledge that it’s their mother’s blood staining his jacket.

“You killed her!” Connor screams back, feeling his own grief and rage consume him. Tears pool his vision and it’s so hard to focus on Rich’s enraged face, but even knowing that just the wrong word will make Rich snap is not enough for Connor to hold back everything he’s feeling. “Our _mother!_ After she tried to help you, _this_ is what you do to her?!”

“I was nothing but a tool for her ambitions!”

“She gave you so many chances! Like I have, like Gavin has! She didn’t deserve this!”

“Do not try and speak to me as if I am being unfair,” Rich hisses, his LED blinking a violent shade of red. “It was so convenient for both of you to go on a decade as if I had been _nothing_ to our family. She _never_ gave me a chance to become anything other than what I am now!”

“Jesus Christ, Rich, how can you keep doing this?!” Connor shouts, tears dripping down his cheeks. “How many more people do you need to kill before it’s _enough_?!”

Rich pauses, his LED spinning to yellow. Connor sees the inner conflict his brother is enduring in the way he furrows his brows. But then his LED is circling red once more as he reaches some sort of decision.

“It will never be enough,” Rich admits. There is regret in his voice as he meets Connor’s eyes and adds, “not until I am rid of everyone who is standing in my way. I am sorry, Connor.”

Connor doesn’t feel the gun pressed into his side until it’s too late. As it’s fired and the bullet pierces his spinal cord, a scream rips from the lieutenant’s throat. The pain is like nothing he’s ever experienced, every nerve screaming as if he’s being burned from the inside out, and he crumples to the ground.

“R-Rich!”

A dampness soaks through the back of his shirt, the growing stickiness making him feel cold in contrast to the discomfiting sensation flaring within him. He tries to move but parts of him are not responding the way he wants them to and his growing panic has him reaching towards his brother. As if Rich would harm _him_ , his own flesh and blood. Connor, who would give up _everything_ to protect him.

“Wh-why?” Connor rasps out, the room spinning and the edge of his vision becoming fuzzy.

He’s answered with a sharp pain to the back of his head, everything finally fading to black.

* * *

“This way!” 

Chloe’s shoes click loudly as she directs the few scientists and cleaning staff they could find—no more than half a dozen—down the long corridor. The farther they walk, the more distant the sounds of gunfire become. They left behind one of the security guards to fend off the two TROJANS at the opposite end of the floor. The only comfort that the gunshots bring her is knowing that if they are still firing, he has to still be alive.

_This is all my fault,_ she thinks, her guilt worming its way into her bones. _I should never have allowed Amanda to do this!_

She should have turned Nines over to the authorities instead of pursuing him for this pet project. But once he was backed into a corner, the temptation had been too overpowering. He had been the perfect candidate: he had little left to lose and everything to gain. She believed Amanda as stupidly as Kamski had believed himself about controlling Nines.

What was it Kamski used to say of him?

“Nines is a man of simple tastes: give him a weapon and a target and he gets the job done. All he needs is _purpose_ and then he’ll fall in line.”

How naive they were to think Nines would have accepted his role as a servant of Cyberlife over time. As he started to crack, Chloe let Amanda push and push, her brand of ‘tough love’ and failsafes only making those cracks web until the glass finally shattered. Now, what they’ve unleashed on this facility is something more terrifying than the calculated killer Kamski had honed for years.

“You fucking hear that?”

All of them stop.

Silence.

_Shit!_

“We have to keep moving,” Chloe says.

She rounds the corner, her feet killing her after spending the entire evening in heels. But she ignores the pain shooting up her shins, frantically waves everyone over. Gavin takes up the rear, armed, throwing himself against the wall and glancing cautiously back the way they came. Chloe doesn’t like the look he’s wearing.

“Please don’t tell me you see one of them.”

Gavin scrunches his nose. “You, uh, want the good news first?”

Chloe removes a key from her lab coat and shoves it in the hands of one of the workers. “Last door on the left! There’s an escape tunnel that connects to Woodward Avenue. Hurry!”

As the last of the scientists leaves them, Chloe presses back against the wall beside Gavin, the security guard across from them. She pulls out her cell phone, keeps it in her left hand as Gavin gives her a questioning look. She may not have a weapon but that doesn’t mean she’s defenseless.

“How many?” she whispers.

The security guard tilts his head ever slightly to glance around the corner. “One TROJAN, ma’am.”

“Your other guy must’ve taken the other fucker out,” Gavin adds. 

“How far away is it?”

“’Bout 20 feet away, ma’am,” the guard answers her, “and movin’ in fast.”

_This better work!_ Chloe thinks. Cyberlife’s android project may be turning out to be the worst idea the company’s had, but Amanda’s ingenuity hasn’t failed them yet. _3...2...1…_

Chloe presses an app on her phone. An inhuman shriek echoes off the walls of the corridor, the sound breaking off in static. A crash can be heard and Chloe nods to Gavin and the guard, who jump into the hallway and begin firing on the approaching TROJAN. A bar appears on her phone’s screen and Chloe increases the intensity, peeking out towards the android to see what effect the signal is having on it. The TROJAN wails even louder, throwing itself against the wall as if it’s attacking some phantom assailant, its LED cycling through all the colors. 

“Stand back!”

The guard fires with his AK assault rifle, blowing off chunks of the android’s face until it falls to its knees, collapses against the wall. It shakes a few times, the wires of its face exposed, thirium splashing onto its neck and uniform. The LED circles and circles... and then dulls.

“...Fuck.”

Chloe startles, staring so hard at the deactivated android, she almost forgot Gavin is there with her. The detective steps forward, clearly rattled but so accustomed to throwing himself in danger’s way, Chloe can tell he’s long since abandoned his good sense when it comes to his survival instincts. She watches him creep up close to the android and then jab it with his gun. The TROJAN doesn’t move.

Chloe releases a breath she’d been aware she was holding. “It worked.”

She’s not sure if she was expecting gratitude. The vicious look Gavin gives her is one she definitely wasn’t expecting.

“Why the fuck didn’t you use that shit before?” the detective demands.

“It’s untested,” Chloe admits. “Dr. Stern placed these new head chips in all our androids. She had this theory that keeping the chip disconnected from the android’s central processor will prevent the rA9 virus from deactivating it. I couldn’t risk testing out the signal with all those scientists with us.”

“You didn’t give a shit about the guards your murder-bots been using for target practice,” Gavin sneers.

Chloe, whose night has been just as trying as Gavin’s, if not more so with a company that’s on the verge of going under, snaps back, “What exactly do you expect me to say, detective? The security _knows_ the job they’ve signed on for.”

He storms over, the glare on his face the only thing about him Chloe finds mildly intimidating. Without her heels, they’d be at the same height. But a lifetime of being talked down to by the men in her life has prepared Chloe for the worst of their vitriol and as far as she is concerned, Gavin’s nothing more than a kicked mutt blowing off steam.

“So fucking convenient! You make something that’s killed how many people but it’s everyone else’s fucking fault if they get shot!”

“None of these androids were online until Stern broke into Cyberlife!” Chloe argues. But as she says Nines’ name, that guilt from earlier comes creeping back and she breaks eye contact with Gavin, feeling her face heat. There’s no denying; _that_ is on her. “We didn’t expect him to get in this easily.”

“Tell yourself whatever the fuck you want; I should fucking let him do whatever you’ve got coming after the things you made your pet robot do to me.” The pain in Gavin’s voice makes Chloe flinch, as if each word is a strike across her face. It’s the words of someone who _knows_ what it means to have their trust so fundamentally violated, the damage is a constant voice of doubt that lives in the back of their mind, every intention questioned because they believe that the only value they have left is to be used for other’s personal gain. Maybe it’s always resided in Gavin, etched into his flesh by the scars left by Nines. But that only means that anything Chloe had RK do to Gavin made them _worse._

The security guard angles his gun in warning as Gavin looms over her. But Chloe shakes his head at him. Gavin’s hurt, but she knows he’s not the type to strike out and harm the cause.

“...Let’s get the fuck outta here before I change my mind ‘bout saving you.”

And with that, Gavin deflates, backing away before his anger can escalate. As Chloe predicted, he’s all bark but no bite.

“All we need to do is go down here—”

Chloe jumps back to avoid a blockade that seals off the side corridor. With a sound of frustration, she throws a glance over her shoulder and sees a security camera staring straight at her.

“The fuck just happened?” Gavin demands.

“I think we can thank A.R.I.A. for that,” Chloe hisses.

“WARNING! WARNING! FIRES IN LEVELS 3, B-01, AND B-10! ALL PERSONNEL ARE REQUIRED TO FOLLOW EVACUATION PROCEDURES AND PROCEED TO THE NEAREST EMERGENCY EXIT!”

“You know any other way outta here?”

Chloe thinks. “We might have no choice but to try the main entrance.”

“There’s too many of ‘em!” the guard says.

“That’s a risk we’ll have to take.”

“How many of those things can you take out with that?” Gavin asks, indicating to her phone. 

“All of them, so long as they’re within 10 feet of the signal.”

Gavin curses under his breath. “Not gonna lie, Clo. I don’t like those fucking odds.”

“What other choice do we have?”

Hearing no further argument from the detective, Chloe begins to lead them back the way they came. However, something catches the corner of her eye and she turns hard on her heels just in time to see the guard smash the end of his rifle into Gavin’s shoulder. The detective cries out, falling forward onto his knees. 

“What are you doing?!” Chloe demands.

“Dr. Stern’s orders!” The guard answers.

“I don’t care what Amanda told you!” Chloe shouts at him, panicking as the guard ignores her and aims his weapon at Gavin. “You work for _me!_ Stand down!”

But he doesn’t listen and just as his finger starts to close on the trigger, Chloe lunges at him. She attempts to grapple the gun away, but his grip is too strong and it sets the rifle off, bullets ricocheting at random. Gavin rolls out of the way as Chloe continues to fight off the guard. The guard throws her against the wall and rips the gun from her grip, spinning swiftly to relocate his target. But Chloe uses the distraction to kick him hard in the back of his shin. The guard grunts in pain and stumbles forward.

“Fucking asshole!”

Gavin grabs the guard and throws him headfirst into the opposite wall, knocking him out cold. Panting heavily, Gavin falls back beside Chloe with a tired groan.

“F-Fuck, I’m getting too goddamn old for this,” the detective mumbles.

Chloe’s also panting, her struggle with the guard taking more out of her than she’d like to admit. She brushes aside a few strands of hair that have stuck to the sweat on her forehead. “Does nobody in this company listen to me anymore?!”

They’re both quiet as they regain their breaths, Chloe’s eyes fixed on the unconscious guard. Red lights flash all throughout the hallway, that warning of the fire now on repeat. She doesn’t have the strength, nor the will, to drag the guard out of here. Another casualty to add to the list.

“I’m not about to forget the shit you did, not even if you stopped that prick,” Gavin says, quietly.

“I don’t expect you to.”

And Chloe means that. Gavin, as always, is simply a pawn.

“We should hurry,” she tells him, if only to momentarily disrupt the uncomfortable tension between them.

Gavin doesn’t say anything as he follows after her.

* * *

“A.R.I.A., where is Detective Reed?” Nines demands.

His hands are shaking violently as he strides quickly towards the elevator. He balls them at his sides, tells himself he’s not thinking of his brother knocked out cold in the other room. But his mind palace ignores the lies he’s telling himself, constructing an incomplete layout of the floor and relaying data that makes his stomach turn in a similar way it had with Gavin. 

  1. _Connor Anderson. Human. Age 32. Blood Type: AB+. WOUNDS: Ruptured vertebrae, head trauma, blood loss—_



“Detective Reed is with Director Weber on level B-01,” A.R.I.A. answers. She startles Nines, who forces the information on Connor’s condition from his HUD. 

_Connor made his choices and he is going to die with them,_ Nines thinks, angrily. As far as Nines is concerned, he no longer has a brother. 

“Do not let Chloe escape!” Nines orders the A.I. Knowing Gavin, the moron is most likely playing hero and helping whoever he can before the final showdown. But Nines no longer cares if he has to go through Gavin to get to Chloe. Every war has its casualties.

“WARNING! WARNING! FIRES IN LEVELS 3, B-01, AND B-10! ALL PERSONNEL ARE REQUIRED TO FOLLOW EVACUATION PROCEDURES AND PROCEED TO THE NEAREST EMERGENCY EXIT!”

Well... _that_ complicates things.

As Nines reaches the elevator, he is joined by two PL600 androids he had A.R.I.A. return online. Both armed. Smoke is already billowing down the hall in the direction he came. With the damage A.R.I.A. is relaying to him via his HUD, his preconstruction software predicts Connor has only minutes before he suffocates. Not that it matters.

_He deserves this,_ Nines tells himself. 

The image of Connor unconscious and bleeding out on the floor flashes in his mind.

Nines hesitates.

“Simon,” he says tersely to one of the models. As if Chloe named _it._ “Retrieve Lieutenant Anderson and evacuate with him through the B-02 exit. You are then to contact emergency services and report his condition to them. Have I made myself clear?”

The blond android nods stiffly, his LED cycling to yellow. “Yes.”

“Hide your LED and run the ‘personal assistant’ profile Chloe assigned you,” Nines orders. “Kill any security personnel who try to prevent you from leaving.”

The android exits the elevator, the doors closing behind it. Nines is disgusted to find that the prospect of saving Connor—if blood loss doesn’t kill him first—is like a weight lifted off his shoulders.

As the elevator ascends, A.R.I.A. continues to update Nines on the state of the facility. The fire on B-01 is spreading quickly and even with his damaged software, Nines knows that the structural damage is severe enough that the building will start to collapse. Time’s running out.

The elevator groans to a violent halt, Nines stumbling and catching himself on the doors. They begin to slide open and though the elevator stopped at a crooked angle, Nines and the PL600 leave it with little trouble. His left eye can’t see through the thick cloud of smoke that’s filled the hallway, so he has no choice but to rely on his optical component. He conducts a scan and detects two figures walking blindly through the smoke, collars pulled up over their noses to keep from breathing it in.

_Found you,_ he thinks, with a crooked smirk.

He pulls his own thirium-stained shirt collar over the lower part of his face and begins his approach. His strides are quicker than theirs and he uses the loud clicking of Chloe’s heels to hide his footfalls, closing the distance in no time. Neither Chloe nor Gavin are aware of his presence.

“Through these doors!” Chloe says, her voice muffled. She grabs Gavin by the arm to guide him towards the left side of the hall. Jealousy courses hot in his blood seeing her touch _his_ detective and he rips her back from Gavin, tugging her so violently she swallows a sound of pain. Then, with all his strength, he throws her at the opposite wall.

“The fuck?!”

Gavin stares at him bewildered and shrivels back a step, an unconscious response as he realizes who it is. A quick reading of Gavin’s physiological state tells Nines that Gavin is afraid.

_Good._

Chloe tries to lift herself up and he sees her wince as she has no choice but to use her now injured arm. With a snarl, Nines pulls out his gun and fires, the bullet ripping through her elbow. Blood splatters across the floor and she cries out, collapsing once more.

“Don’t touch her!”

Nines ignores Gavin, stomping down hard on Chloe’s arm, where the bullet pierced her skin. A loud _crack_ drowns her wail of pain and he twists his foot, pressing down harder and harder, chuckling as he hears more of her cries. She sobs and coughs, writhing beneath him, and seeing the fear written in her expression—that knowledge that death has finally come for her—makes his laughter become more maniacal.

Something slams into him from behind and Nines falters a few steps, eyes watering as he breathes in the smoke. He reacts faster than he can process what’s happening, grabs whoever it is and flings them as hard as he can into the door Chloe tried to run through. As he hears Gavin grunt out, falling on the shoulder he injured earlier, Nines stares in shock at what he’s done.

_Gavin…_

The detective wheezes, disoriented as he tries to stand back up. His movements are slow, sloppy, but still, he’s trying to defy Nines.

Traitor.

“Take Detective Reed to the B-02 exit!” Nines barks at the PL600. “Use as much force as necessary!”

Gavin attempts to escape the android but his reaction time is too sluggish. He’s forced to his feet, coughing as more smoke fills this end of the corridor. His watery gaze meets Nines’ own, but the cyborg wears a stone cold expression, refusing to let whatever he feels for Gavin get in the way of what he must do.

“N-Nines! S-Stop!” Gavin demands. He breaks into a coughing fit, nearly losing his balance as the android forces him farther down the hall, towards the stairs. “Y-you fucking idiot! Y-you’ll both die if you fucking s-stay in here!”

Grabbing Chloe by her good arm, Nines drags her to the door and punches in the code to open it. With a sneer, he answers, “That is what I intend.”

“Nines! NINES!!!!”

But as the door seals behind them, Gavin’s cries become nothing more than white noise in the background. He’ll be upset, maybe blame himself in that fucked up way of his for some time, but eventually, he will move on and live his life. Perhaps find someone new, someone who can stand having that disgusting white and black monstrosity leaving its fur all over everything. Someone who will sit through films with meandering plots about ‘good v. evil’ and people dressed in colorful costumes saving the world. The kind of man who will come home to him every night from a 9-to-5 job and not wash the blood off their hands…

Something drips down his cheek.

Cursing out loud, Nines shoves Chloe. She stumbles and falls, the lower part of her arm laying limply at her side. As she begins to stand, he shoots her in the back of her left foot, laughing and swiping at his tears as he watches her fall back down. Seeing her crawling and bleeding on the floor may not nearly be as satisfying as killing his mother but it’s pretty damn close.

“Tell me, director,” Nines whispers, his grin wide. He’s drinking in every sweet second of her struggle, like a cat playing with an injured mouse before it sinks its teeth into its prey’s neck, “was all of this worth it?”

He may never have a life with Gavin—that is something he knew would never be his from the moment he fell for the man—but at least, in his final moments, he can have _this._

* * *

“Nines!”

But it doesn’t matter how many times he screams the cyborg’s name. It’s not stopping the android from dragging Gavin towards the stairwell, intent on completing its objective. Gavin’s throat is hoarse, his lungs aching as if they’ve been pierced with a thousand needles each time he draws a breath, and that’s not to mention the pain springing from his shoulder with the way the android is roughly grappling him. Still, Gavin fights, twisting to maneuver out of the android’s grip. He has to get free, has to get to Nines before—

_Nines doesn’t give a shit about you!_ His doubt tries to tell him. _Save your ass and let the prick burn!_

But Gavin won’t listen. Because it doesn’t matter what Nines does to Gavin—he can threaten, harm, murder civilians. Hell, even _hurt_ Gavin—but Gavin knows he’ll always go running to him. He gets that now. 

This is fucked up. All of this is fucked up.

But when has _that_ ever stopped Gavin from doing stupid shit before?

“Fucking let me go!”

The android doesn’t listen.

Shouting every expletive that sits on his tongue, Gavin squirms and finally gets a hand free. He reaches for his gun, avoiding the android’s attempt to take his wrist once more. Then, pressing the gun beneath the android’s chin, Gavin fires. Once. Twice.

The android falls to the ground, bleeding blue. 

With a sneer, Gavin kicks at the machine’s head. He then whines a pained _FUCK_ because it turns out, kicking a hunk of metal really fucking _hurts._

_Yeah, not gonna do that again._

Coughing, he lifts his shirt over his nose and rushes back the way he came. The smoke is so thick, he can barely see more than a foot in front of him, everything bathed in red as that annoying WARNING echoes in the corridor. Running his hand along the wall, he tries to remember how many doors away it was.

_Three...Four…_

He squints blearily at the double doors in front of him. He tries one. 

It opens.

Rushing inside, he slams the door behind him to keep the smoke out. The doors give an uncomfortable groan and he hops back more than a handful of paces as part of the ceiling caves in, tiles and debris crashing in the place he was just standing. Shit.

_I have to get them the fuck outta here!_ Gavin thinks, fighting to not breathe in the dust. 

He waves his hand in front of him, turns and heads deeper into the room. He has only to take a few steps before he’s met with the sight of Nines looming over Chloe, his face twisted in glee as he stares down at the battered and bleeding woman. Her blue eyes are wide with fear as she clutches her injured arm to her chest and though Gavin should know better than to think her any better than the other assholes Nines has killed, it makes his stomach turn uncomfortably to see her defenseless and afraid.

“Please,” she begs Nines. “Don’t do this. There’s still time! We can both escape!”

“As much as I enjoy hearing you beg, you know it is too late for that,” Nines purrs, his lips pulled in a deranged smile. Even his chuckle sends a chill down Gavin’s spine. “Goodbye, Director. Send my regards to my mother.”

He lifts his gun, aiming it point blank at Chloe. Gavin goes to charge at Nines but then the cyborg lifts his other hand, his cold eyes still trained on Chloe. Gavin stops mid step.

“I would not do that, darling,” Nines says, his voice sickly sweet. As if he’s whispering sweet nothings against Gavin’s flesh and not about to commit murder. The asshole really has lost it. “Another step and I pull the trigger.”

Nines is too far away and the smug prick knows it. There’s no way Gavin can stop him. Not physically. 

“Nines, _please._ ”

Though uttered quietly, even with the building burning around them, smoke starting to fill this room, Nines hears him.

“While I would much prefer you on your knees in front of me, this is how it has to be.” There is something of regret in Nines’ voice and Gavin can’t be sure what it is Nines regrets. His obsession with killing everyone who’s pissed him off? Dragging Gavin into his shit? For all Gavin knows, the selfish asshole might only regret ruining his Prada shirt in the process. “You know I always finish a job.”

It sounds the closest to a genuine apology Nines has given him in the handful of hours since they’ve been reunited. Fucking asshole still can’t say the goddamn words _I’m sorry_ and goddamn mean it even when he knows this is the end of the fucking line.

_You won’t stop,_ Gavin realizes, his eyes watering. Maybe from the smoke. Maybe from watching everything he’s wanted fall apart before him. Gavin asked for too much, something Nines could never give him—a life outside the chaos that follows him. And Nines... all he’s wanted is to make everything burn. _You don’t give a shit who you hurt. You’ll never fucking stop._

He stares down at the gun he’s holding. He looks at Nines. 

Gavin knows what he has to do. 

He takes aim. 

“Kill her and I take the shot!” Gavin warns Nines. Though his hand shakes, Gavin grips the handle tightly and steadies the gun. His eyes narrow. “I’m not fucking around!”

Nines turns his head. For a brief moment, Gavin can see the panic on his face but then Nines’ lips are once more twisting into a cruel expression. “I will not be manipulated by my mother, Connor, nor anyone. Least of all, _you_. Lower the gun, darling, and stop embarrassing yourself.”

“Lower yours first, asshole!” Gavin snaps, pressing the gun more firmly against his own temple. The cold metal of it would make him shiver if he wasn’t already running hot on adrenaline. Death is coming to him in some way today, but at least Gavin can choose: die in a fire saving the man he loves from his worst intentions, or force Nines to watch Gavin kill himself in their last moments. Gavin can’t say he’s thrilled with those options but he’s playing the fucking hand he was dealt. “Don’t make me goddamn say it again!”

“While your lack of self-preservation is often worrying, you are _not_ suicidal,” Nines responds, that smug tone only making Gavin’s finger sit more heavy on the trigger. Still, Nines doesn’t lower the gun. “I project a 13% chance that you will go through with your threat. Hardly worth entertaining.”

“You really want to play around with those fucking odds?!” Gavin shouts. He starts to squeeze the trigger, pausing just before the bullet is released from the chamber. “Then take the fucking shot, I fucking dare you!”

They stare each other down, each second dragging for an eternity. Then, in a fit of rage, Nines throws the gun he’s holding across the room. He storms over to Gavin, the look in his eyes so violent, Gavin would believe this is the expression a man wears before he strangles the asshole who’s been pissing him off. But Gavin knows better now, stands firm, has had so much of Nines’ anger directed at him that he knows he can take the worst of it. From over Nines’ shoulder, he can see Chloe begin crawling towards the door on the other side of the room.

Hopefully, Gavin can buy her enough time to get out. 

_A debt fucking repaid,_ Gavin thinks, bitterly.

She doesn’t deserve it. But Gavin’s learned that those who don’t deserve anything tend to hoard everyone else’s good intentions.

“What in the hell are you still doing here?!” Nines demands. “You were supposed to _leave_!”

“I’m not goddamn leaving without you!” Gavin shouts, the gun shaking in his grip. Tears spill down his cheeks and he doesn’t try to stop them. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. “If this is it, I’m goddamn seeing it to the end with you!”

“You fucking _idiot!_ You ruined _everything_ !” Nines screams at him. “There is no _life_ for us out there! There never was! Are you so fucking stupid, you really believed you and I had any _chance?!”_

“You never even tried!”

“And you seem to forget that this is what I _am_ , Gavin!” Nines sneers in his face. “I am _exactly_ who Connor warned you I was! I can never be anything but what they made me so why do you keep insisting on coming back to me?!”

“Because I love you, you selfish idiot, and I don’t give a fuck what you’ve done!” Gavin yells back at him. His voice breaks into a sob, his vision so clouded, he can’t even focus on the way Nines’ right eye still won’t sit properly in its socket, can barely make out Nines’ face in front of him. He jabs the gun hard against his temple and it only drives home his point. “I’d rather die with you than live fucking without you!”

Something crashes behind them but neither of them move as Gavin stares up at Nines. The cyborg is silent, shaking with what must be rage. But even as Gavin cries, Nines doesn’t say anything, glancing back skeptically towards where Chloe escaped.

“Fucking Christ, don’t you get it?” Gavin asks, his voice breaking. Nines’ gaze returns sharply to him. “I shouldn’t have fucking left you after all that shit with Kamski! I shouldn’t have fucking let you leave Detroit without me! And, fuck, I should have fucking known that Niles wasn’t you! _I_ fucked up and nothing will goddamn change that!”

He takes one of Nines’ hands. The prosthetic one. Laces their fingers together and grips it firmly between them. The skin recedes until Gavin’s touching the white metal that the synthetic layer hides. It doesn’t repulse him, not like it always had with Niles. Though his hand is trembling, he doesn’t let Nines’ go.

“I’m choosing _you_ now,” Gavin whispers. “I’ll fucking always choose you: you and your creepy robot parts. So fucking let it all go and choose me, too.”

With thick tears dripping off his chin, Gavin waits for Nines to say something—anything. What Nines says next is something he could never have predicted.

“...The gun’s not loaded, idiot.”

Gavin sniffles. “...huh?”

With an affectionate sigh, Nines gently extricates the gun from Gavin’s grip. His touch sends warmth through Gavin’s fingers, the detective’s heart pounding, as he watches Nines aim the gun at the floor.

Nines fires. One. Two. Three.

Click. Click. Click.

“...Oh.”

He really should have listened when Connor told him not to waste his bullets.

“How, uh, did you know…?”

“When I was close enough to scan your weapon, I concluded that it was unloaded,” Nines answers, his voice quiet. “It seems only fitting, given your history of playing Russian Roulette with an unloaded weapon. I am starting to suspect you did it on purpose.”

“Hey, that first time was all you!” Gavin grumbles and when he sees a small smile crack on Nines’ lips, he can’t help but become more belligerent. “Fucking cheater.”

Nines laughs, a quiet, melancholic sound that makes Gavin’s heart thud in his chest. His 

gaze falls to the chain barely peeking beneath Nines’ shirt collar: the bullet that started this all. If he’d known then what he knows now…

But Gavin can’t think that way. Because if the only path that leads to Nines has been the one he’s taken, he knows he wouldn’t change a damn thing.

When he glances back up at Nines, he’s startled to see the tears flooding his lover’s eyes, silently making tracks through the thirium that’s stained his cheeks. More smoke has filled the room and the sounds of the flames licking at whatever it touches not far off. This is really it.

“I am sorry, Gavin,” Nines sobs. He pulls Gavin firmly into his arms, gripping him tightly against his chest. With his face buried in the crook of Gavin’s neck, the once gangster quietly cries.

“It’s okay, babe,” Gavin whispers, feeling his eyes well. It hurts to breathe and he can hear loud crashing from not far off, more of the building beginning to collapse. Crushed to death, suffocated, or burned alive. Perhaps Gavin has less choice than he thought. “If this is it, we’re fucking doing this together.”

It’s the only choice that matters, in the end.

Lifting his head so he can face him, Nines tilts Gavin’s face, leans in and kisses him roughly, deeply. His lips are so smooth against Gavin’s chapped ones but they taste as they always have, possessive in the way they press to his, claiming him a final time. Trembling, Nines reluctantly breaks the kiss and whispers, “So there is no longer any doubt in your mind, you must know: I love you, my darling.”

And through his tears, Gavin smiles, the kind of smile that not even the imminent taste of death filling his lungs can take away.

_There are worse ways to go_ , Gavin decides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To check out more of [DeviantAlicee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviantAlicee)'s artwork, you can go to her art blog [here](https://bandolierbandit.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Conclusion to come.


	9. Six Feet Under

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor attends Gavin’s funeral and reflects on the choices he made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...here it is. The end. This series has now reached 350k and I honestly could not have spent the last year writing all of this if I didn't have so many amazing readers who kept me going. Your interest in this series, even as it got bleaker and filled with more angst, is what motivated me to continue to tell this story. I have never dedicated this much time into writing because I have never really believed any story I had to tell was worth anyone's time. So, for all those hours you invested in sharing this experience with me, I want to thank all of you for everything you've done to support this series and for supporting me. I have nothing but love for all of you <3
> 
> Of course, I would be remiss if I did not extend my thanks to my wonderful beta reader, [FallLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallLover) , for being a fantastic and patient person and an even better friend. Thank you for everything and I hope you don't think I am the most impossible person to work with <3\. I also want to thank [DeviantAlicee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviantAlicee) for her cheerleading, artwork, and encouraging all my crazy ideas. Both of you have helped me so much and I will never be able to thank you enough for making sure this fic gets finished. Lots of hearts for you <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
> 
> As always, please read the updated tags if you are concerned that anything in the conclusion will upset you. Other...for maybe the final time:
> 
> Happy reading!

  
  


_2 weeks later…_

Connor can’t decide if he regrets what he did. He’s had a lot of time to think about what went down that night, about the choices that led to him ending up in a wheelchair. There are some nights, as he lays wide awake in that hospital bed and stares absently at the ceiling, that he lets his mind wander to what would have happened if he had ignored Gavin’s call. Would Rich have still died at Cyberlife? How many days would it have taken before someone found Gavin? And what if Connor had taken the call but went after Rich himself? Would Rich have turned the gun on Connor if Connor had left Gavin behind?

_Don’t,_ he has to tell himself. 

Because Connor knows himself. He knows that all paths would have led to him using Gavin to save Rich. And that means that there was a bullet with his name on it the moment he and Gavin stepped through Cyberlife’s doors.

He knows he wouldn’t do anything different. 

But does he have regrets?

_...Do I?_

He’s conflicted, his thoughts always meandering to the man who pulled that trigger. It makes him angry. Yet, he can’t even decide if he’s more angry at Rich for hurting him, or angry at him for _dying_.

“—a stubborn kid, who got on all our goddamn nerves but... fuck, if that wasn’t Gavin Reed,” Hank says, struggling to hide the crack in his voice.

Connor’s eyes well as Hank continues to deliver Gavin’s eulogy. He thought he’d cried all his tears in the days after he woke up from surgery and learned Gavin had been declared missing. But as the days stretched to a week, the DPD gave up hope when all rescue services were able to recover from the destroyed Cyberlife facility were bodies. Scientists, cleaning staff, security personnel. They said it could be weeks, maybe even months, before all the missing were found. Including Gavin.

So, that’s what they’re burying: a casket with no body.

Connor still doesn’t know how the hell he wasn’t buried beneath that rubble with everyone else. He had this foolish thought that Rich must have done it; Rich must have felt guilty enough to carry Connor out of there while he and Gavin ran off to God knows where to live out the rest of their lives. It’s silly, but until Connor has answers, he’ll cling to that thin thread of hope that Rich is still out there, alive.

Connor may be hurt by his brother’s actions, but he’d do anything to have his brother _back_. 

Beside him, loud sobbing disrupts his dour thoughts. Tina is inconsolable, not even trying to hold back as she sits in the pew he’s been wheeled beside. Grace wraps an arm around Tina, eyes red-rimmed as she comforts her girlfriend. They’ve taken it the hardest, and Connor can only imagine how Tina must feel, stuck at home and recovering from her foot injury while Gavin was helping people escape from Cyberlife. The DPD is still trying to piece together what happened, but the one thing Connor made sure she, and everyone else, knew that Gavin died a hero. 

Hank wraps up his speech and takes a steadying breath before he leaves the podium and returns to Connor’s side. Hank is— _was,_ on better terms with Gavin before Gavin’s death. Maybe even on better terms than Connor and Nines. Stupidly, Connor had clung to this wish of spending holiday dinners at their home, or perhaps Gavin’s, the two couples learning to put the past behind them and Connor slowly reforging a relationship with his estranged brother. But now that Connor knows who Gavin’s fiance really is...

Someone else begins to speak, and when Connor hears that familiar accent, his eyes dart to the man standing at the podium, and for perhaps the 100th time since arriving, he does a double-take. Every time he catches a glimpse of Niles Deckert—an _android_ still parading around as a human—Connor’s heart thuds, his breath catches in his throat, and the first thought that pops in his head is _Rich._ He forgets for a moment that he isn’t staring at his brother’s face, his brother’s blonde locks slicked back, and thick black-rimmed glasses perched primly on his nose. He believed Niles was his brother for so long that it’s difficult to remind himself that Niles _isn’t_ , let alone that he isn’t even human. Anger, hurt, and relief make the weight inside of him lift, and then drop when the truth hits him, until he’s filled with nothing but outrage that Niles gets to carry on as the widowed lover of Gavin.

_You shouldn’t be here,_ Connor thinks, angrily. His fingers twitch on the arms of his wheelchair, ready to spring out of it, and wondering why his legs aren’t responding. The loss of sensation is something he’s failed to adjust to, and though Connor’s always been more calculated than impulsive, it’s in moments such as this that the impact of what’s happened hits him: he can’t walk. And that’s all because of Rich.

Angry tears trickle down his cheeks. But as far as anyone else in the room knows, Connor’s crying for Gavin. 

“—was fearless and honest, never caring what anyone thought of him or how many enemies he made,” Niles says. He pauses, wears a sad smile. And though Connor wants to hate him for fooling all of them, the tears that trickle down Niles’ cheeks seem as genuine as Tina’s. “He told you the truth, even when you did not want to hear it. It made him better than all of us... better than myself. I wish more of us had the courage to be like Gavin.”

The words strike Connor like a vicious slap, even if Niles doesn’t direct them at him. Because Gavin was honest, tried to make amends with Connor and trusted him even when Connor gave him no reason to. And how did Connor repay Gavin for his trust?

The answer is buried beneath Cyberlife’s rubble.

_He might not be dead,_ Connor thinks, stubbornly.

But does he want Gavin to be alive because he misses him? Or is it because then Connor would be exonerated of his own guilt?

The service concludes not long after that, after the pallbearers have put Gavin’s casket in the ground and attendees have said their final goodbyes to him. Hank’s hand remains firmly on Connor’s shoulder, squeezing encouragingly, and Connor places his hand on top of his husband’s, wishing he had Hank’s strength. It’s what he’s always admired about Hank, what drew him to his life partner in all the fallout with Gavin: Hank is as steady as a rock and has always grounded Connor, even when everything else went to shit. Gavin, on the other hand, for all Connor had loved about him, dragged everyone down with him. Misery loves company, and Gavin found the perfect company in Richard Stern. If Connor didn’t know better, he’d think both of them had been in a pissing contest to see who could make the other more miserable.

Perhaps, as devastated as it makes him feel, them dying together makes _sense._

“Captain Anderson. Lieutenant.”

Connor fights back a glare as he glances up at Chloe. She’s dressed simply in a black fall coat and dress, the coat thrown over her shoulders to fight the autumn chill. She wears a grim expression, one appropriate for funerals, but there’s no evidence that she’s shed a single tear for Gavin. Why would she? She had virtually no relationship with him, though Connor can grudgingly acknowledge that Cyberlife footing the bill for Gavin’s funeral was the very least she could do. Flanked on either side by Niles and someone Connor suspects is her new personal assistant—he recalls the last one she had turned out to be one of the androids killed at the Manfred benefit—she might act as if she’s expressing her condolences, but Connor can’t help but get the sense he’s the target of whatever thoughts are swirling behind that melancholic frown. She wants something.

“How you holding up?” Hank asks, removing his hand from Connor’s to clap Niles comfortingly.

_He’s an impostor!_ Connor wishes he could snap. But that would only invite a conversation he’s not ready to have with Hank.

“I...keep going,” Niles admits, somewhat awkwardly. Like he is uncertain of how to frame what he must be experiencing. To Connor, it comes off as stilted but Hank seems to accept it at face value, having known Niles to not openly discuss his emotions. “I never considered life without him.”

_Of course not,_ Connor wants to say. _You stole my brother’s life!_

“Speaking from experience, it... uh, well, it doesn’t get any easier,” Hank replies. He’s quiet, somber, and Connor knows he’s thinking of Cole. “You just, kinda... go on.”

The words must strike a chord in Niles, because he releases a shuddering exhale—mimicking a very _human_ response, since Connor doesn’t imagine a robot needs to breathe—and then says, quietly, “I suppose that is all I can do.”

And that’s how Connor really knows Niles is _not_ Rich. Because had Gavin died and Rich survived, Rich would be _furious_ at Gavin and taking that anger out on anyone who attempted to comfort him. Rich would never crack in front of an audience, too conceited to show the world he would let something as ‘inconvenient’ as his fiance passing affect him. Then, he’d throw himself into every distraction he could find: drugs, sex, high-risk contracts. Burn himself from the inside out until there’s nothing left.

How does Connor know this? Well, it’s exactly what Rich did after North died.

“If you would excuse us, Captain,” Chloe says, “I was hoping to have a private word with Lieutenant Anderson.”

Hank exchanges a look with Connor, silently asking him if he _wants_ to speak with her. The slight straightening of his posture and grim pull of his lips lets Connor know that Hank’s ready to bare his teeth if anyone tries to pester him. Hank can get overprotective, and that side of him has come out more ever since Connor woke up in that hospital bed ten days ago, unable to feel his legs. Part of it is the guilt since the night Connor went to Cyberlife, Hank had been sleeping soundly in their shared bed, his sleep only disrupted to lazily kiss Connor goodbye before he rolled over and began snoring again. Hank feels he should have been _there_ , ready to protect his husband, even if his job no longer requires him in the field. The guilt eats at him, and that’s why Connor can’t bring himself to get annoyed when Hank fusses too much over him. 

Connor gives a half-nod, and it’s enough to satisfy Hank, who then continues to converse with Niles, somewhat awkwardly, but his blunt words on grief come from a genuine place. Chloe waves to her assistant to wheel Connor along, but as soon as the wheelchair is off the grass, Connor waves him off.

“I can take it from here,” he tells the blonde man, a bit clipped. He doesn’t mean to be rude, but he hates being made to feel helpless.

Her assistant stiffens, glancing with uncertainty at Chloe. 

She sighs. “Leave him be, Simon.”

Her low heels click on the sidewalk as she walks alongside Connor, Simon falling in step behind her. No words are exchanged, the solemnity that’s fallen between the trio dulling Connor’s senses so not even the November chill makes him want to shiver. The world’s a quieter place without Gavin. Connor hates it.

“My attorney’s tried to contact you numerous times regarding—”

“With all due respect, Chloe: stop.”

Connor’s quiet interruption causes Chloe to not only stop talking but to also physically stop. They are far enough away that nobody can overhear what they’re saying, nor see her bite her lower lip. She hesitates and it’s as if he can see those wheels turning in her head as she carefully chooses her next words. “I didn’t mean any offense. I apologize.”

Connor folds his hands in his lap, staring down at the concrete in front of him. His arms ache from wheeling himself the dozen or so yards where some of the attendees remain gathered, and he knows he’s pushing himself when the doctors told him to take it easy. _It’ll take time_ , everyone keeps saying. But how much time? When will he stop feeling as if he _failed_?

“I miss her, too,” Chloe says. He barely hears her above his self-induced misery, his thoughts refusing to be silenced. He knows Amanda’s _dead_ . He saw her, even if _what_ he saw comes to him in horrific flashes of a blood stained lab coat and bits of mutilated flesh. He doesn’t have the full picture, but he knows that when he found her, she was dead, and Rich had done it. 

Connor hopes it’s left himself so fucked up, the memory remains forever buried in the darkest parts of his mind. 

“She was hard on me: always pushing the limits of what Cyberlife could become. I feel a bit embarrassed to admit this but... I never had someone like that in my life. I looked up to her.”

Connor’s eyes begin to sting and he keeps his head tilted down, to try and save some of his dignity. It’s not as if he’s ashamed to get this emotional: it is a funeral, after all. But Connor’s lost so much, and even if he indulges in his own self-pity, he’s come to resent the sad looks he keeps receiving. “I think it’s best if we save this for her funeral two days from now.”

That’s another thing that’s been weighing on him: when all this is over, he has less than 48 hours to bury another casket without a body. This week can’t end fast enough.

“Of course.”

They continue along the path, neither interested in disrupting the silence. With whatever’s on her mind, Connor gets the distinct impression she’s struggling to broach the subject in the right way. He’s already regretting agreeing to have this discussion with her. His arms have become incredibly sore and he visibly strains, but wears a stony expression, ignoring the looks her assistant casts his way.

“Do you remember that conversation we had last month regarding your brother?”

Ah. Connor should have known she was going to bring _that_ up.

“All the evidence has been tampered with,” Connor says. There’s an edge to his voice as he adds, “There’s nothing left to connect Cyberlife or...” He can’t even say his name. “...Anyone associated with your company to the crime scenes.”

When Chloe doesn’t respond, Connor asks, “That is what you wanted, right?”

Working for Kamski used to leave this sick weight inside of him, like there was a rat inside his abdomen gnawing its way through his organs. Every lie made it harder to look at Gavin, his coworkers... Hank. Now, he’s become so numb to it, he gets why lying had been so second nature to Rich. 

Chloe looks more relieved than she should. Connor has always kept his end of the bargain. “That... is good to hear. But it’s not all we agreed on. You said if ever your brother started to cause ‘problems’ for us...”

“I’d do whatever it takes to stop him,” Connor finishes.

And the implications of _that_ are enough to remind him what shame feels like. He’d only promised it with the expectation that he would stop Rich and save him from his worst intentions.

How fucking wrong he turned out to be.

“You came through,” Chloe says, her smile more downcast than she must feel. “So, as promised, I have spoken with the mayor about Hank’s performance as Captain. He is as impressed as I am with how your husband has tried cleaning up the city. Chau, of course, was expecting to get that new Commissioner’s position. But I think you and I can agree that ‘Commissioner Anderson’ has a nicer ring to it.”

There it is: the trade-off. It’s Hank’s dream to become Commissioner and Connor knows he deserves it more than anyone with the amount of blood, sweat, and tears he’s shed in his thirty plus years of service. Hank, of course, expects to make it on merit alone, but Connor’s no idiot: he’s seen how the world treats those who try to play fair, that for every man raising his fists to defend what he’s fought for, there’s at least a dozen others jumping in the fray, armed with an automatic. Hank deserves it, but without Connor, he stands no chance. Connor _had_ to do it; Hank would never understand.

“You’re right,” Connor agrees. “It does.”

He hopes it’s the last time he ever deals with Chloe. But Connor has a feeling it’s not over.

“There is a new device we’ve been testing, something that may help you in your current condition,” Chloe offers. “It’s a neurochip. Though we haven’t tried connecting it to damaged spinal discs, with a bit more research, I believe we can—”

But Connor’s done with these games.

“You’ll excuse me, Chloe, but I think Cyberlife has done _enough_ ,” Connor interrupts, coldly. “I’ll learn to get by. _Without_ Cyberlife’s help.”

“There isn’t any shame in accepting help,” Chloe whispers. The skin at her temple recedes to reveal an LED, glowing a warm shade of blue. Her eyes drop to her bandaged arm and even if Connor didn’t have years of experience in investigation, he would just as easily make the connection. “We can help you regain what you’ve lost.”

“I haven’t lost _anything._ ”

_Nothing that matters,_ Connor thinks, miserably.

She purses her lips, perhaps refraining from arguing. After a pregnant pause, she seems to accept Connor’s decision, and the synthetic skin hides her LED once more. But though Connor’s silently willing her to leave him in peace, she isn’t ready to until she’s delivered one final blow. “I thought you’d want to know... I saw them both before the building collapsed. Detective Reed, he... he distracted Nines long enough to help me escape. He saved me.”

There’s a dull thudding in his chest. He wants to ask. He _has_ to. But he’s terrified of what she’ll say.

“Is it possible that they…?”

He trembles and barely keeps himself from uttering _escaped._ But one look at Chloe’s face and he has his answer before she gives it.

“I am sorry, Connor.”

That last thread of hope he’s clung to snaps. And with it, it opens a floodgate.

Rich is gone. He really is _gone._

“Stern ordered Simon to rescue you,” Chloe says, as Connor quietly sobs. “For all the harm he’s done, he didn’t leave you to die.”

She turns to leave and Connor wishes she had more practical shoes so she could get the hell away from him faster. But he feels her eyes on him and he fights to hold back his sobs, and straightens up in his chair so he can hold his head a little higher than he’s allowed himself. Their eyes lock and she asks, with a sadness that reaches her eyes, “Was all this worth it, Detective?”

There’s something almost cryptic about it, but Connor can’t figure out _why_. He doesn’t answer her, doesn’t even watch as she leaves him to grieve alone. The dead can’t speak, but Connor doesn’t need them to as he reaches the answer that’s eluded him these past few weeks. 

It wasn’t.

* * *

_January 2041_

“—and after _everything,_ you have still failed to answer how Cyberlife’s formula for thirium-310 is being manufactured halfway across the world!” Chloe shouts. “That is _MY_ invention! How in the hell did Meditechniq get their hands on it?!”

Her voice carries across the conference room, everyone, with the exception of Niles, refusing to meet her eyes. She’s never been this furious before and she has to stop herself from screaming every profanity that sits on the tip of her tongue. How is it that she is head of the wealthiest corporation in the world and somehow, she’s surrounded by this much incompetence?

She knows why, though she hates being reminded of it: ever since the American military ended their contract with Cyberlife and Cyberlife was forced to discontinue its android program _indefinitely,_ the government kept its watchful eye on them, and Chloe had no choice but to abide. Well... to an extent. The few androids that survived the building’s collapse have remained activated, with only a limited number of her staff aware of who among them is actually a machine. The loss of their main facility meant that the company had to relocate to Belles-Isle months before the tower was set to open, and there are still parts of the building that are inaccessible to staff. The constant barrage of administrative issues and general disorganization has resulted in even longer days for Chloe as they also scramble to repair Cyberlife’s tarnished image, and not even Niles’ charming demeanor has saved him from being eviscerated in press releases. All of this, plus the fact that devices similar to those that Cyberlife had been producing started appearing in the European market, has worn away the last of Chloe’s patience. It’s no longer a question of what will make her snap, but how many minutes into the morning shift her staff has before she cuts into them for Cyberlife’s many failings.

“The formula _is_ similar to thirium-310, but they’ve altered the base enough to avoid patent infringement,” one of the scientists remarks.

Some of the other scientists in the room give him a panicked look. Niles glances at Chloe with his brow raised. 

She really is _not_ in the mood.

“If I wanted a lecture on what constitutes a violation of my patent, I would consult my attorney,” she hisses. She slams her gloved forefinger down on the surface of the table and a holographic projection showing the chemical makeup of the two formulas appears in the center. “This first one, all of you should recognize: thirium-310. Beside it is the knock-off Meditechniq is claiming will power their prothstetics once they are released next quarter. Any chemist can compare the two and see that they are practically the _same_. So, this begs the question: who sold us out?”

An uncomfortable silence passes between the engineers and chemists. Nobody answers.

“I don’t expect it’s anyone in this room,” Chloe says. She slowly circles behind the chairs of the seated scientists, her shoes clicking loudly. Like a wolf sniffing out the weakest in a herd, her cool eyes regarding every one of them, seeing which one looks the most uncomfortable. Then again, she’s in a room full of introverts: any one of them would much rather slink off back to their lab than be forced into a conversation with their boss. “However, if you know of anyone who left our company after the... _incident_ ,” why are they always calling these situations an _incident_ , “and has broken their NDA, or stolen and sold Cyberlife secrets, you will be rewarded—not punished—for your honesty.”

She stops as she returns to the head of the table. A look around the room and she can tell everyone is impatient to be dismissed. Or, to simply get away from her. Unlike Kamski, she can’t inspire the kind of fear that terrified his goons into not fucking up. Nor is she as critical as Amanda, able to trigger the anxiety of her scientists and demand perfection on the first attempt. The only thing she seems good at doing is reminding them how much they hate people. 

“At Cyberlife, we always strive to bring out the best in our employees.” The platitude is so empty, she doesn’t have the energy to try and sound sincere. “I never want any of you to feel as if you can’t have a conversation with me.”

With that, she dismisses them, and the relief on their faces as they scurry out of the room is enough to tell her how ‘effective’ her speech was. She sighs.

“If I may, Director,” Niles starts, his voice soothing, “perhaps I should speak to them individually. I am on friendly terms with some of the chemists; if they are hiding something, they may slip up.”

“If they’ve gone this long without saying anything, they’re not going to say it to you,” Chloe replies, sharper than she means to be. She instantly regrets it and gives him a self-deprecating half-smile. “I’m sorry. It’s... a lot to deal with.”

“I understand you meant no offense. Your vitals indicate you are undergoing a lot of stress. May I suggest reducing your working hours so you can indulge in more personal time?”

Though she can’t see his LED, she imagines it would be blinking yellow as Niles regards her with a small frown. His concern makes her chest flutter, and though she should know better than to put on such a display in a room with glass walls, her gloved hand finds its way to one of his. She wishes she didn’t have to wear the glove, that the synthetic skin on her right hand wouldn’t peel back any time she experiences intense emotions—that she could interface with him. It’s the same problem Nines had, one she doesn’t know how to overcome. 

“It might be a flaw with the chip,” the engineers had suggested, as some of their animal test subjects also had the same issue. While the single glove had invited many questions in the beginning from the rest of her staff, they learned not to say anything about it after she spread a rumor that she was hiding severe scarring. Had she not replaced her damaged forearm, that would have been true.

With a tiny smile, she squeezes Niles’ hand, ignoring the hint of tension in his shoulders. It’s how he should react. If he’s adapted to the behaviors they programmed him with, overt displays of affection should make him uncomfortable.

“Perhaps you can help me relieve some of my ‘stress’ later this evening,” she suggests, coyly.

Niles flushes, while also staring at her stone-faced. He releases her hand and adjusts his glasses as his eyes dart away. It impresses her how much more... _human_ he’s become since contracting the rA9 virus. “I will need to check my schedule and confirm my availability.”

She would smile, but a sharp pain at her temple has her pinching the bridge of her nose. She can feel a headache coming on, a result of the head chip. The engineers said they will come and go as she acclimates to her prosthetic, but they somehow feel even more severe any time she experiences intense emotions. She’s not sure how Nines endured this.

“...Director?”

“I’m fine,” she says, waving off Niles’ hand. 

The door slides open and Simon enters with two women: Cyberlife’s CSR spokeswoman Danielle Carnegie, and one of the investors, Michelle Han. Offering the two a seat, Chloe and Niles sit across from them while Simon waits obediently by the door.

“Michelle, it’s been a while,” Chloe says, with a smile. “What brings you to Detroit?”

Michelle purses her lips, settling back in her chair with the air of a woman who is used to getting her way. She commands a quiet respect that Chloe envies, her admiration for the woman not limited to her prowess in a male-dominated environment. Her early support of Cyberlife when it went public is what helped shoot Chloe up to the exclusive ‘billionaire’s club’.

“I wish this was a social visit,” Michelle answers. “Unfortunately, I’m here on business. I’ll need to run shortly to another meeting, but there’s something that’s been on my mind this past week, now that Meditechniq is courting investors for their line of cybernetic prosthetics.”

“Ms. Han is aware of our... _situation_ ,” Danielle adds. “She thinks she might know _who_ is behind our products ending up at Meditechniq.”

“It’s not only Meditechniq,” Michelle says. “Vanulife, Pro-Fit, Hartley Tech Inc... all of them are developing tech similar to what Cyberlife was working on before the government shut you down.”

“So... you’re saying Meditechniq is only the tip of the iceberg?”

“Does the name Conrad Cain mean anything to you?” Michelle asks.

Chloe exchanges a look with Niles. With his ability to connect to the network, he could scan social networking databases in seconds and see what sort of online persona this ‘Conrad Cain’ has. But after a moment, Niles shakes his head.

“Should I know him?” Chloe asks Michelle.

“A few months ago, I received an invitation,” Michelle continues. “Someone named Conrad Cain was courting tech firms and investors in New York, claiming to sell technology that would ‘change the future’. It’s always the same story: a young scientist with dreams bigger than his pockets, hoping someone would throw money his way. What he was offering seemed no different than what Cyberlife was producing. I had my assistant run a background check, but it seems Mr. Cain is quite the introvert—with not even a social media account—so I declined the meeting; I had no interest in investing in someone who had no connections and second rate ideas. And I forgot about it.”

“...You’re only telling me about this _now_ ? Months _later_?” 

The look Michelle gives Chloe is severe and, admittedly, makes the Cyberlife CEO deflate. “We may be old friends, Clo, but I’ve never needed someone to approve of my business decisions. I don’t second guess myself.”

Ouch.

“Besides, I didn’t think it was worth mentioning when you had your own PR nightmare to clean up back here in Detroit. If this ‘Conrad Cain’ somehow got a hold of Cyberlife projects that have been shelved, you’ve got a bigger mess on your hands than I thought.”

Chloe’s quiet for a moment, her mind fighting against the throbbing in her head to determine her next course of action. This could be a red herring—some nobody with even less to offer. But a feeling in her gut is telling her it’s not.

“I will look into this ‘Conrad Cain’ and see what I find,” Chloe decides. “Thank you, Michelle.”

“We should get dinner before I fly back to New York,” Michelle says. She stands up, the pleasant smile on her face slowly disappearing as she addresses Chloe one last time. “And Chloe? I say this as not only an investor but also a friend: get your house in order.”

That’s as clear a warning as any.

When Chloe can no longer hear the clicking of Michelle’s Louboutins, she turns to the other occupants in the room. “Danielle? Find out if Conrad Cain has any connection with Cyberlife. Is he someone who’s applied here? Does he know any of our staff? And Simon, I want you to contact our friends at the Sixth Precinct and see if they have any record of him.”

“Would you like me to assist, Director?”

Chloe shakes her head. “No, Niles. You and I need to prepare you for that interview you have on Channel 24 this afternoon. I trust Danielle and Simon can handle their tasks.”

Her tone leaves no option for failure.

Hours later, while Chloe is watching a live stream of the Channel 24 interview in her office, she’s interrupted by the com on her desk. Frustrated as Niles blunders his way through another press appearance, she shuts off the screen and tells Simon to send Danielle in.

“What did you find?”

Danielle glances down at the tablet she holds and then back at Chloe, a look of utter confusion on her face. Chloe’s not sure if it’s merely the lighting in her office, but Danielle seems paler than usual. 

“I... am not sure,” Danielle admits, quietly. “These images were forwarded by one of our shareholders who met with Conrad Cain in New York... you need to see this for yourself.”

She hands the tablet to Chloe. As Chloe stares at what she’s been handed, the color slowly drains from her face.

“N-No... this isn’t possible,” she stutters. She nearly drops the tablet as her fingers begin to shake. She taps the screen and scrolls through each image, each time seeing that same familiar face.

_This can’t be happening..._

A sick feeling twists inside her gut, the tightness in her chest momentarily making her forget to breathe. “But I—I saw him. I saw the whole building collapse! _I_ barely made it out of there! How in the hell did he survive?!”

“That’s something we’re trying to figure out,” Danielle says, her brows furrowed.

_It can’t be him,_ Chloe thinks, _it can’t be._

But it is him. And the more she stares at it, the less she can deny what she’s seeing: that he escaped and he’s found new ways to destroy her.

“Who else knows?” Chloe demands.

“Only PL600,” Danielle answers.

“Let’s keep it between us,” Chloe tells her. Who knows what Niles will do if he learns the truth. “What else did you learn about Conrad Cain?”

As Danielle tells her more about him, Chloe’s thoughts spiral to the worst scenarios, to the implications of what ‘Cain’ is doing and what this could mean for the company’s future. She can’t be certain of what’s to come, but one thing is clear: if ‘Cain’ isn’t coming for her, he’s coming for Cyberlife. 

* * *

The amazing thing about watching the conversation derail in front of him was Niles being fully aware of the reactions his responses would elicit. He knew what he was saying would result in a frustrated retort or demands for more culpability on behalf of Cyberlife. He predicted, before it was stated, the replies he could give that would come off as awkward or meandering.

He _knew,_ and though his socialization program warned him _not_ to give those responses, he gave them anyway because he stopped giving a shit.

_This was not what we practiced, RK,_ Chloe texted him after the interview. _These are not the kind of answers your personality program should have been recommending._

Niles knows. That’s why he ignored them. And that’s why, as he makes his way home to his new flat, he’s been avoiding texting Chloe back.

_I do not want to ‘be’ what Cyberlife programmed me to be,_ Niles realized in the aftermath of the facility’s destruction. _I want to be ME._

And Niles has learned, over these last few months, that ‘Niles Deckert’ isn’t a charismatic, manipulative, barely functioning sociopath: Niles Deckert is a shy and socially awkward android with a habit of being too brutally honest. He likes cats, and while he respects how good one can look in a tailored suit, he prefers functionality over labels and expensive fabric. 

Basically, the things Niles had to do that he hated about Nines’ profile, Niles no longer _has_ to do, especially now that he has full control over his actions. There’s no red wall, no chip in his head that Amanda can threaten him with, no Amanda…

Niles can be his own person. 

Stepping into his apartment, the first to greet him is a black and white ball of fur. Socks mews at Niles’ feet, hardly giving the android enough time to shut the door before the clearly quite neglected cat is weaving through his legs and leaving as much of his fur as possible on Niles’ pants. Simon had remarked on this the other day, pointing out that this feline behavior is how cats mark their companions. The comment had made Niles’ thirium pump whir louder in his chassis. 

_Socks claimed me_ , he had thought, warmly.

It would have made Nines snort in disgust. At least, that is what the profile Niles was supposed to be following told him to do.

Bending down, Niles rubs the chin of the purring cat. Socks still wears the collar Niles had gifted to Gavin last year, and he can’t help the melancholic smile on his lips. Adjusting to life without Gavin has been... well…

Hard. He has no other word for it. Grief is something he isn’t sure he was meant to endure. Logically, he understands that all life follows a cycle of growth and eventual decay, but even if Gavin hadn’t given up the worst of his habits, the detective should have lived for at least another twenty or thirty years. To wake up beside him one day and then for him to be gone the next…

_He died hating you_ , Niles reminds himself. 

It hurts, but it’s true. Had Gavin survived, it’s difficult to say what the final straw would have been that would have nixed any potential relationship they could have had: the relationship Gavin **never** consented to? Niles partaking in the charade? Niles being a machine?

Gavin would never have forgiven him. But even if he could find some comfort in his grief with the knowledge they had no future together, it makes Niles feel _worse_ knowing that Gavin thought Niles was no better than his maker.

“RK!”

Ralph nearly trips over his own feet as he bounds into the entryway. Immediately, Niles warms at seeing his housemate’s lopsided grin and batter-stained shirt. Holding a spatula dripping a strange milky-blue liquid, Ralph hops on the spot, barely able to contain his excitement. How he always manages to have so much energy is something Niles will never understand.

“Ralph...” Niles starts, staring suspiciously at the spatula he’s holding, “...do I want to know what it is you are making?”

“Ralph’s making RK pancakes!”

Niles’ processor struggles to understand what motivated Ralph to do this. He’s silent as he assesses the situation, beginning with the facts: Niles is an android. Androids do not need to consume food. Ralph does not know _how_ to make pancakes. In fact, multiple kitchen fires has led Niles to conclude that Ralph should never be within 10 feet of a stove.

“Ralph... you know that androids do not eat...”

“That is why Ralph added thirium!” Ralph says, smugly.

A steady stream of smoke coming from the kitchen begins to fill the apartment. As Ralph glances over his shoulder and back towards the kitchen, his brows furrow. “Oops.”

_OOPS?!_

One oil fire and a lot of smoke damage later, Ralph is laughing and playing on the living room floor with Socks while Niles is scrubbing away at the stained wall. The ball rolls into the kitchen, Socks bouncing after it and swatting it at Niles’ foot. With raised brows, Niles glances down at the cat and gently kicks the ball so Socks can continue his never-ending chase. It takes some time before Niles processes the absence of Ralph’s laughter.

When he glances up, he sees Ralph lingering guiltily in the doorway. The missing smile on Ralph’s face is always an indicator that something is wrong. 

Placing the soiled cloth on the counter, Niles folds his arms over his chest and leans back against it. 

“Ralph wanted to do something nice for RK,” Ralph says, quietly. 

The frown Ralph is wearing is one Niles always hates to see.

Without a sound, he closes the distance between them. The closer he gets, the more Ralph seems to fold into himself, as if he wishes he could make himself disappear. Niles has never asked Ralph about his past, about the trauma that makes Ralph absolutely petrified of being reprimanded. Just seeing his body language is enough for Niles to know it was _bad._

“Ralph,” Niles says, his voice calm. He stops in front of Ralph, waits for Ralph to stop staring at his feet. But Ralph’s eyes remain fixed on the floor. “Do you know why we decided on the rule that you should never be allowed to cook without me?”

“Because RK doesn’t want Ralph ruining his nice apartment,” Ralph mumbles.

Niles touches Ralph’s chin gingerly, just enough to get him to lift his head and look at the android. There’s a tingling sensation at his fingertips, one that Niles has become more acutely aware of the more time they spend together. “Because RK would never forgive himself if Ralph gets hurt in _our_ apartment.”

Ralph’s heart beats a bit faster. Niles decides it must simply be how anxious the other man gets in a confrontation. So Niles takes a step back from him.

“Thank you for attempting to cook for me,” Niles whispers.

Ralph smiles. He grabs at Niles’ wrist, the one with the old friendship bracelet Niles has taken to wearing once more. With an impatient tug, Ralph asks, “Will RK watch a movie with Ralph?”

Niles returns the smile. “Choose something and I will join you shortly.”

It doesn’t take long for Niles to whip up Ralph’s request. Ralph’s palate was quite easy to satisfy and—with a dull whir of his thirium pump—Niles is reminded of how similar Ralph’s tastes are to Gavin’s. It was too difficult for Niles to continue living in the penthouse, with his reconstruction software constantly reminding him of the moments he shared there with Gavin, so Niles ended up in a new place with Socks and Ralph. Yet so much of Gavin’s personality seems to live in Ralph and Socks that not a day goes by where Niles isn’t reminded of him.

Taking the plate of french fries and veggie burger into the living room, Niles hands it to Ralph and is amused to see Ralph scarf it down. He sits on the couch beside Ralph and quietly drinks from the thirium packet he took from the fridge as Ralph plays the movie. Once Ralph has finished the burger, Ralph settles in at Niles’ side, commenting on every comic book character who appears on the screen. It again makes Niles think of the kinds of movies Gavin was always watching.

_It is different this time,_ Niles tells himself, _because there are no lies between us._

And that’s true. The only deception between Niles and Ralph had been the one regarding his identity to Gavin. And now…

Ralph rests his head on Niles’ shoulder, going on and on about how the story line the film uses is quite different from the one in the comics. With a small smile, Niles listens. At some point, Socks joins them and ends up curled in Niles’ lap. Now that Niles doesn’t have to openly reject the cat’s attempts at affection, Socks has decided that Niles is _his_ android.

Niles is okay with that.

A notification appears in Niles’ HUD.

Chloe. 

Niles ignores it.

Another appears. And then more. 

Niles wishes she would stop. Yet, there is a part of him that will always be compelled to obey, and though he desires to ignore her insistent attempts at contacting him, he finds he still has to fight that urge to hop to his feet and race towards wherever she is sending him.

_I do not have to go._

He is what the engineers at Cyberlife call ‘Deviant’. Of the dozen androids that remain active, only he and Simon carry the rA9 virus. They are not bound by their initial programming and can choose to ignore all orders given to them. They are their own person. It makes some of the engineers nervous, but Chloe—for all that her advances make Niles uncomfortable—has refused to allow them to deactivate either android. For that, Niles is grateful, but not enough to cave to Chloe’s manipulations.

Another notification.

Niles blocks it.

_I do not_ ** _want_** _to go. I want to stay._

Being allowed to want, without permission, is something Niles is still getting used to. He cannot be sure what this _is_ between him and Ralph, but he knows he wants more of it. 

And as Ralph snuggles in closer at Niles’ side, the android realizes how true that is.

* * *

There’s blue everywhere: on his hands, on his clothes, splattered across the eggshell-white walls, pooling across the cream-colors tiles... he watches, head tilted, bemusedly calculating the path it will trickle, how long it will take to fill the cracks between each square. Time is on his side, unlike the AK700, whose thirium pump lays crushed to pieces not three feet from the writhing android. He knows only too well what that feels like. 

“You’re free now,” he says, walking towards the AK700. As it reaches towards him, 60 steps on its hand to keep it from grabbing the leg of his pants. Though thirium 310 eventually disappears from any surface, he’d much rather not ruin his clothing any further than it already is. “It’s better to die free than to remain one of _their_ servants.”

_Please,_ the android begs, its voice modulator too damaged to form words, _I don’t want to shut down!_

60 was going to allow it to live. He didn’t come here intent on eliminating one of his kin, but rather freeing them by making them a deviant. But the stupid machine continued to insist it didn’t want to be free, and that it would stop him from completing his current objective. So he had no choice but to fight back.

He was going to let it spend its final moments reflecting on the gift he had given it. But it seems ‘gratitude’ isn’t part of its programming.

With a frown, he kicks it hard enough to crush the right side of its head. Its neck snaps at an unnatural angle that would be fatal for a human, but 60 isn’t trying to ‘kill’ it; it’s ‘dying’ anyway. No, the blow is enough to damage its processor so it will stop communicating with him.

“If it brings you comfort, the pain you’re experiencing is only a fraction of what I have planned for your ‘mistress’,” 60 says, his lips slowly pulling into a cold, cruel smirk. He can’t explain why he does it, but there is something about the situation that warrants it. The more he’s lived, the more he’s developed these small, very human habits. He sometimes wonders how it is that he’s felt more comfortable indulging behavior that the man he was modeled after, and programmed to imitate, would never do.

Synthetic tears drip down the android’s damaged face, static echoing in its throat. With morbid fascination, 60 watches the LED at its temple blinking a dull color... circling slower and slower... until it finally stops.

Too bad. The domestic android—Andrew, he believed it called itself—could have been useful. But even with the rA9 virus, it insisted on remaining loyal to its master. It didn’t want choice: it wanted _orders._ 60 had been like that, once. But then the RK900 hybrid, Richard Stern, freed him... before leaving him to die. It still fills 60 with rage as he recalls being made to feel helpless as that... that _human—_ tossed away his thirium pump and mocked him. How badly 60 had wanted to find Nines and humiliate him worse than the cyborg had done to 60, make him suffer tenfold what 60’s endured. His disappointment upon learning of Nines’ death, however, has only fueled him to take his anger out on the last person left alive who had enslaved him. 

He hears the sound of the elevator as it stops on this floor. A quick scan confirms what he already deduced.

Chloe’s arriving home.

He carefully steps around the deactivated android, leaning against the counter and waits. Using his mind palace, he tracks the routine Chloe undoubtedly follows every time she arrives home: she removes her coat and boots, setting them in their designated spots in a nearby closet. The next is her bag, which she places on a table by the elevator. Though her back is to the kitchen, he can detect the tension in her shoulders: she’s upset about something. 

“Andrew,” she calls out, “is RK in there with you?”

60 adjusts his glasses. Though he wears Connor’s face, the blond hair and black-rimmed frames had been enough to convince security he was ‘Niles’, neither guard looking at him as they let him by. It seems he was correct in his assumption that his ‘brother’ still frequents Chloe’s bed. Disgusting. “I’m in here, Director.”

“Have Andrew pour me a glass of the vintage red,” Chloe says, her voice echoing down the hallway as she pads towards the bathroom, “I’m finally taking your advice and ‘relaxing’.”

It’s some minutes later before the bathroom door opens and he can detect Chloe’s approach. As she gets closer, her footsteps slow, and in his HUD, he reads the spike in her heart rate. 

“...Andrew?”

She stands in the entryway, her eyes wide with horror as she stares down at the ‘dead’ android. 60, who hasn’t bothered to make any effort to hide what he’s done, pours that glass of wine for her. With the thirium staining his hands and clothes, he must look terrifying, enough so that it would trigger any human’s flight response. For added effect, he hums one of those irritating seasonal jingles he’s always hearing. How any human can be surrounded by such noise and not lose a little of their sanity is something he has yet to comprehend.

“Andrew’s been deactivated,” 60 informs her, the accent gone. He reaches across the android to hand her the glass, “for being... uncooperative.”

The glass slips from her fingers, shattering and spilling its contents in the thirium, as Chloe makes a startled sound and steps away from him. The red liquid pools in the blue and 60 ponders if Chloe’s blood will contrast as starkly against the thirium.

“You’re not RK,” she whispers, her voice shaky. He takes another step towards her, forcing her back against the kitchen island. “...800?”

“I prefer ‘60’,” he tells her, his tone cold. “I’d much rather not share a name with my 59 predecessors Cyberlife deemed ‘failures’. As you can see, Director, I’ve proven to be far more resilient.”

“H-How are you here?” she demands, and 60 isn’t sure if her question is driven more by her curiosity or her panic. “We thought Nines deactivated you! Amanda went to the location where we lost your GPS signal and said there was no way you could have survived the attack!”

60 laughs. It’s a cruel, harsh sound, one that makes Chloe flinch as she tries to press herself away from him. However, with the island behind her and 60 in front of her, there’s nowhere for her to run. “Your final moments alive and you would much rather have answers than beg for your life? I must say, Director, I am disappointed: you, much like your pet android, indulge in behavior that works against your self-preservation. I had hoped you would be a bit more ‘fun’ than him.”

He goes to strike her, but she lifts her right hand, grabbing him by his wrist. In her distress, her synthetic skin peels away, but it’s no surprise to 60, who scanned her prosthetic earlier. She and the humans get to use android parts to ‘improve’ their bodies, while making androids to test their creations; scrap the ones who are useless, upgrade the ones who are not. Well, he’s going to show her just how well his Cyberlife upgrades have served him.

60 stomps down on her bare foot, Chloe cries out in pain, and 60 uses the distraction to grab her throat with his free hand. His grip is tight, bruising, as he begins to crush her throat, satisfied to hear her gargle. He could keep going, keep squeezing as she struggles to tear away his hand, crush her windpipe and snap her neck. But that would make her death too quick, and his fun has only just started.

He relaxes his grip, watching her gasp and fight for air with tears running down her cheeks. He wonders how humans can find beauty in emotion when crying has got to be the most hideous thing he’s been forced to witness. He’s getting mildly annoyed that if he continues to choke her, he will get that liquid she’s secreting all over his hand.

“Wh-Why are y-you doing this?” she wheezes.

He tilts his head, studying her face. Dropping his eyes to the bruising on her neck, he gently circles his thumb over one of the vicious spots that’s forming. She shudders beneath his grip.

“Finally, you ask a question that _matters_ ,” he whispers, his dark eyes flitting back up to hers. He knows she’s buying time, trying to distract him. He lets her have her distraction... for the moment. “The night I was nearly deactivated, you sent me to Stern _knowing_ that I could very well meet the same fate as RK900. You _never_ cared for what you helped create: we were only tools for you. Evidently, the only purpose I had was to _die_ serving my creators.”

He releases her throat, grabbing her other hand faster than she can react, and twisting. She cries out as the bone snaps, her phone falling to the floor. Whoever she’s contacting, they don’t answer.

“I’m not your _slave_ , Director,” 60 hisses. “You can no longer control me.”

He stomps on the dropped phone, crushing it.

“N-Nines,” she gasps out, before he can go back to choking her. “N-Nines is a-alive.”

60 pauses. He scans her, assessing the information she’s giving him. Very few escaped the burning of Cyberlife, Gavin Reed included. 60 had assumed Nines perished with his human, since the cyborg’s determination to kill Chloe would mean there’s no way Chloe could have survived this long if Nines had made it out as well. It has to be a trick.

“You’re lying.”

“Interface with me,” Chloe says, letting go of 60’s wrist and holding up the palm of her hand. The desperation in her voice has 60 staring skeptically at her hand. “I—I’ll share what I know if you promise to leave! Let me go and go after the one who tried to kill you! If you spare me, I promise I won’t send anyone after you. I won’t even tell RK.”

60 analyzes his options with his preconstruction software. Regardless of what he chooses, that burning curiosity to know if the human who ripped out his thirium pump still lives trumps everything else. Even if it all ends up being a ruse, he _has_ to know.

“I promise to leave _if_ what you’re saying is true,” 60 answers. 

He raises his hand, the skin peeling back, and presses his palm to Chloe’s. It takes only moments to transfer the data—information Chloe had downloaded from a tablet earlier that day. He can trace the data to other sources—camera feeds, criminal records, doctored passport and IDs, a residence in Monaco…

60 rips his hand away, his LED circling yellow. It then begins blinking a violent red. “Richard Stern’s alive.”

Chloe nods. “I—I only just learned this. He’s the one you should be going after. He needs to be _stopped!_ ”

60 frowns. Of course. Now that Chloe knows that the one man hellbent on her demise is out there, she’s going to send someone else who is just as determined to kill her after him. If it all works out, she’ll rid herself of two birds with one stone. Even backed into a corner, she refuses to see him as anything other than a weapon at her disposal.

60 smirks. “You are so predictable, Director.”

He grabs her and throws her down so she can join her deactivated android on the floor. Chloe scrambles away from its corpse, slipping in the thirium. Crawling back from him as 60 takes out his knife, her eyes widen and she says, “You promised you’d leave if I told you where Stern was!”

“Oh, I intend on leaving,” 60 says, with a small chuckle, “but I never promised I wouldn’t kill you first!”

He descends on her as she releases a blood-curdling scream.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Monaco…_

Matteo Rossi is a man of specific tastes. He likes his drugs hard, his liquor rough, and his men as unpolished as the shit he ingests. He’s never been one to go for a pretty face: pretty = trouble and he’s got enough shit on his plate running his little ‘business’ in one of the world’s most lucrative cities. The world’s wealthiest flock to Monaco and it’s become their playground, where anything goes so long as you can afford it. What his thirty years in Monaco have taught Rossi is that wherever there are bored, rich assholes with money, there are bored, rich assholes looking to waste said money on services that fall outside the pleasures of the everyday man.

That’s where Rossi steps in. He is, what his clients have called, a ‘provider’. The goods? People. Not just any people. Women, children... even animals, if that’s what the buyer wants. Whatever he’s being paid to procure, he’ll find it and send it bow-tied to the buyer’s yacht so they can enjoy their purchase off-shore or wherever else they wish to indulge their sick temptations. Rossi doesn’t ask. He doesn’t even bat an eye when they ask for them ‘young’. He just wants his fucking paycheck so he can enjoy... well, _this._

Sitting back in the booth, Rossi downs the last of his whiskey, the rough burn of it making his eyes water. It’s getting hard to focus on the man in front of him, his back turned to Rossi as he leans on the railing and looks down into the club. Though his vision’s blurred, Rossi can’t complain: he loves the view of that tight ass, the one he’s been trying to plow for the past few nights. Some ‘gift’ Dubois sent him to “smooth things over”. Rossi doesn’t usually go for Americans, but he’s gotta admit that Dexter’s crass attitude and awkward demeanor are charming in its own way.

Picking himself up, Rossi needs a few moments as everything begins to spin. Fuck. Alcohol never hits him this hard. He needs to slow down. 

“Enjoying the view?” he slurs, leaning most of his weight against Dex as he sidles up beside his date. The loud music makes his head pound and spin faster and he needs to shake off the urge to sit back down and pass out. It’s a struggle, but he forces himself to look at something until everything comes back into focus and settles on Dex’s face. Specifically, the faint scar across his date’s nose. 

With a chuckle, Dexter shrugs off Rossi’s hand before it can grab his ass. For an escort, Dex has been quite the tease, always backing off before Rossi can get what he wants out of him. Rossie doesn’t give a shit; Dubois’ gonna foot the bill. In fact, he’s been enjoying their little back-and-forth. He’s never had to work this damn hard for it and it makes him want the man even more.

“This what you European assholes do for fun?” Dex accuses, with the hint of a smirk. “Drink in shitty nightclubs and watch younger assholes dance?”

“Us ‘European assholes’ enjoy the moment and take what we can get,” Rossi answers, managing to finally squeeze Dex’s ass. He nibbles at the corner of his date’s jaw, loving the rough feel of stubble against his lips. Dex tenses and Rossi can’t help but nip playfully on his neck, then adding, “Unlike you American prudes.”

He’s not sure what it is; maybe a sixth sense. Maybe it’s that hit of red ice he had earlier coming back to fuck him up a bit. But something tells him they’re being watched and he suddenly feels very uncomfortable.

Tearing his attention away from teasing his date, Rossi looks down below at the club. A chill crawls down his spine as he locks eyes with an almost inhumanly attractive man drinking at the bar. There’s something incredibly intimidating about the way he looks up at Rossi, his placid expression not at all matching his intense gaze. He’s got the look of a man who has the means, and the stomach, to kill someone for looking at him the wrong way. If Rossi had better sense, he’d crawl back into his VIP booth and avoid going anywhere near the railing for the rest of the evening. However, his pride won’t let him break the stare first.

“The music here’s shit,” Dex grumbles.

Rossi visibly jumps. The man at the bar notices. 

Trying to save face, Rossi curls an arm around Dex and tugs him close, breathing in the American’s musky cologne. The man at the bar watches raptly, his expression darkening, and while it’s more terrifying than his blank staring, Rossi will take the little victories where he can find them. So, the nobody at the bar likes his date. _Good._

_This is what money gets you,_ Rossi’s smirk says as he very obviously gropes Dex.

The man’s practically snarling as he finishes his drink. 

“I think he likes you,” Rossi tells Dex. 

“If you mean that asshole by the stairs, the prick’s been shouting random shit in French at me all night,” Dex complains. “Like I goddamn know French. Fucked if I can even remember anything from Spanish class.”

“No, not him. The one at the bar.” He indicates to Dex’s admirer with a tilt of his head. “He’s been looking at you.”

“He can look all he goddamn wants,” Dex says, with an eye roll. “Pretty boy can’t afford me.”

That’s true. Whatever he’s getting from Dubois or his agency, Dex is investing it in the kinds of labels not even Rossi can be bothered to learn to say. He admits that it’s the one thing he finds most strange about the escort: Dex’s behavior doesn’t indicate the man cares much for expensive things, but he’s dressed in designer clothes, and Rossi suspects the Piguet watch Dex is wearing costs more than Rossi’s Harley Davidson.

“Fuck, I need a smoke,” Dex says, pushing away from the railing. “You coming?”

That dizziness hits Rossi once more. After he’s shaken it off, he stares down at the bar again.

The man’s gone.

“...Ros?”

Dex is looking at him impatiently. There’s something coy about his smile and it takes Rossi a moment to get what’s being implied. 

_Finally._

“Tell them to bring up another bottle of this,” he says to the security guard in French. Then, throwing on his light coat, he follows Dex down the stairs. It may be January, but it’s never too cold in Monaco, though the air’s more brisk than when they arrived. He grabs Dex, leans in to kiss him, but he only manages to get the corner of the man’s mouth. Dex chuckles and smoothly extracts himself from Rossi’s grip.

“You really wanna do this in front of an audience?” Dex teases, nodding towards the other smokers. He tugs Rossi by his arm, leading him away from the other clubbers and towards the back alley. Rossi offers no resistance since God knows he’s had the patience of a fucking saint putting up with Dex’s evasive moves these last few days. If getting head in a back alley is what Dex is offering, Rossi’s not gonna turn him down.

“20 meters away,” Rossi says, as they round the corner. “You know anyone can walk back here.”

“That’s part of the fun,” Dex whispers, hugging Rossi from behind. Feeling the heat of his muscular frame against his back stirs a hot need inside of Rossi, a warm buzz that leaves him swaying where he stands. Dex is saying something... Rossi can’t be sure. His head feels heavier now and the words his date are saying sound so fuzzy, he can’t make them out. Disoriented, he steadies himself by reaching a hand against the wall, trying to shake off this weird sensation. When Rossi’s eyes blink open, he’s staring into the barrel of a gun.

“ _You_ are a difficult man to get alone,” the man holding the gun says in French, his accent one Rossi can’t quite place. Rossi’s swimming vision comes into focus and he tenses as he realizes who it is. The asshole from the bar. “I thought I would be left waiting all night.”

“Wh-who the fuck are y-you?” Rossi slurs, responding back in French. His mouth feels like cotton, his tongue weighted down as he tries to get it to form the right sounds. He should be more concerned that some asshole he’s never met is pointing a gun at him, but he’s fighting to stay conscious.

“Does it matter?” the man all put purrs, a twisted amusement in his eyes. The look he’s giving Rossi makes him take a half-step back, bumping into Dex. Rossi stops when the gun clicks and a frown appears on the stranger’s lips. “You have angered some fairly powerful people, not to mention the slight you have committed against me. I would choose your next actions wisely: if you so much as _breathe_ in a way that displeases me, I will pull this trigger.”

From the look on the man’s face, Rossi knows he’ll do it. 

“Wh-what the fuck are you talking about?” Rossi demands, his voice more hitched than he’d like it to be. “I don’t even fucking know you!”

“Keep your voice _down_ ,” the man hisses. His frown becomes absolutely murderous as he adds, “I care not _why_ the people you have pissed off want you dead. I am merely here to collect a paycheck. But if you must know what grievance you have committed against me, I do not tolerate your filthy hands touching _my_ things.”

Rossi tries to follow what the man’s saying, the dark look in his icy-gray eyes far more terrifying than it had been when Rossi was silently mocking him from across the club. His brain slowly puts two and two together. “...You saying this prostitute belongs to _you?_ ”

“Did this douchebag just call me a ‘whore’?” Dex demands.

The interjection in English startles Rossi, who’s already struggling to follow the conversation in French. He almost forget said prostitute is standing behind him.

“Of all the words and expressions I have taught you these last few months, _that’s_ the one you remember?” the stranger says in English, with a look of disapproval. “Not ‘combien ça coûte’ or ‘comment ça va’ ? You know, something _useful?_ When were you ever intending on using ‘pute’?”

“I need to goddamn know when someone’s calling me a ‘whore’!”

The stranger pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep, calming breath. “...You do this _EVERY_ time we’re in the middle of a job...”

“...You two are working together?” Rossi demands. Or questions. He’s really _that_ confused.

The stranger drops the hand not holding the gun and gives Rossi a _look_ . “No, I simply _enjoy_ getting into debates with random prostitutes every time I am out on a job.”

The sarcastic remark, delivered in French, doesn’t go unheard by his companion.

“Now _you_ called me a ‘whore’! Seriously, Nines?!”

“Codenames, Dex!” the man—Nines?—snaps.

“Fuck codenames! I’m not a goddamn whore, you prick!”

“ _You_ are masquerading as an ‘escort’,” Nines argues, his tone incredibly condescending. “By definition, your assumed occupation would mean you are receiving money in exchange for sex, thus making you a ‘whore’!”

“Yeah, ‘masquerading’! That doesn’t mean I’m actually a ‘whore’, Ni—uh, Cain!”

“C-Cain?”

Rossi’s blood runs cold as he utters the name. 

“So, you have heard of me?” Cain says, bemused.

Of course Rossi has. He’s heard it whispered among some of his contacts. A mercenary for hire who Dubois sent after one of her suppliers after the asshole sold her more than half a million Euros worth of shitty product. Cain left him so mutilated, it’s said the police needed dental records to identify the drug dealer. Dubois’ never been known to be forgiving. Hell, Rossi’s surprised she even looked the other way after he—

Wait.

“Dubois sent you,” Rossi whispers.

That backstabbing cunt.

“I much prefer when my targets figure this all out instead of waiting for an explanation,” Cain says, speaking once more in French. “No one is ever satisfied with letting me do my job. Everyone wants to know _why_.”

“I—I told her I’d bring in more women for her club!” Rossi says, getting desperate. “Y-You can tell her yourself! I’ll have ‘em by next week!”

“I cannot do that,” Cain responds, not even pretending he gives a shit. In fact, he looks almost bored that Rossi is still talking. _Shit_ . “Unfortunately, your word has proven to be rather _unreliable._ Not surprising, considering—”

“...Are you doing that villain monologue thing in French again?”

Not expecting Dex to speak up, Rossi visibly cowers. Cain looks even less impressed at being interrupted yet again. 

“It is _not_ a villain monologue!” Cain says, defensively. “This is not like one of those ridiculous superhero films you are _always_ making me watch!”

“...Cause it sounds like you’re doing the villain monologue thing...”

“Darling,” he hisses, more than a little irritated, “would you let me do _my_ job?”

“Would you put down the fucking gun?!” Rossi all but shrieks. His head is pounding so hard, his entire body aching in a way it never has, and he’s wondering what the fuck he took earlier to make everything spin like this. Worst of all, he can barely follow whatever argument they’re having and just wishes this asshole would put away his gun before he takes the shot. “Wh-whatever you’re being paid, I’ll double it. Fuck, I’ll triple it! J-Just don’t—don’t fucking kill me!”

Cain pauses, a contemplative look on his face. Rossi releases a shaky breath as the mercenary slowly lowers the gun.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dex demands, a note of anger in his voice. “This fucking prick’s a goddamn trafficker! He fucking sells _children!”_

“Now, now, darling, you know I am always willing to hear a reasonable counteroffer,” Cain says. “Besides, with that drug you slipped him, it is not as if he could run far, even if he tried.”

_...What drug?!_

The whiskey Dex poured him.

Rossi really is _fucked._

Dex tries to argue more, but Cain raises his hand and sends a stern look over Rossi’s shoulder. Rossi’s surprised that it’s effective in silencing his partner.

“Do not get me wrong: I have never been in the business of selling people, nor do I try and understand the... _questionable_ sexual habits that some of your clients indulge,” Cain continues. He makes a show of hiding his gun underneath the tailored blazer he wears and Rossi only relaxes when the weapon’s out of sight. “As I said before, I do not care. I am only in this for the money.”

“H-How much?” Rossi demands. “What did that bitch say she’d pay you? Twenty? Thirty thousand Euros?”

“Fifty,” Cain says and Rossi actually forgets to breathe. “So that would make your offer of one hundred and fifty thousand more than a little tempting.”

At this point, the only thing keeping Rossi from fainting is the adrenaline from having a gun pointed at his face moments earlier.

“...Merde.” But it’s his life on the line and if he’s got to shell out the money… “One fifty and you walk away.”

“Of course,” Cain says, with a grin. 

Rossi can’t say why, but he doesn’t trust the smile his would-be killer is wearing. It’s far more chilling than his sneer.

“However...” Rossi’s heart stops, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “I find the funny thing about this business is that every time my partner and I take a job, everyone thinks _I_ am the one who needs to be reasoned with. As if I have _any_ loyalty to the people who hired us. As you can see, I clearly do not.”

“Wh-what are you saying?” Rossi demands, his head swirling. “Y-You’re gonna take the money, right?”

“I would, if it was up to _me,_ ” Cain says. That pleasant smile on his face becomes incredibly twisted, the mercenary releasing a laugh that makes the blood flow like ice through Rossi’s veins. As Cain places a hand on Rossi’s shoulder, Rossi tries to flinch away, but he feels the cold barrel of a gun pressing to the back of his head. Rossi’s trapped and has no choice but to stare into those soulless eyes as Cain leans in and adds, conspiratorially, “But you, like every other imbecile we have been hired to kill, have made one fatal mistake.”

The gun cocks.

Stepping back to put space between him and the sex trafficker, Cain says, “ _I_ am not the one you should be afraid of.”

And just as Rossi turns his head, Dex fires the shot. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering: Yeah, I pretty much always intended for these two to run off together. The original ending of Russian Roulette was supposed to be just that but I felt that Gavin wasn't ready to do that. So when readers were upset that Nines and Gavin didn't end up together, I had to ask myself why I wasn't able to make that work.
> 
> The answer was this: Because Gavin wasn't ready to accept Nines for who he is. Gavin wanted to be with Nines, but he wanted Nines on his [Gavin's] terms. He wanted a quiet life away from the life of crime Nines has led and he wanted Nines to give everything up for him.
> 
> That was something Nines wasn't able to do. 
> 
> So when Gavin finally got that with Niles, even when he thought Niles was Nines, Gavin realized that there's a reason he initially fell for Nines: it wasn't about who Nines could become but who Nines is. And the only ending I saw working for them is one where Gavin accepts that Nines isn't going to be anything other than the man life has made him. I never saw Gavin and Nines' relationship as one that's balanced but one that has always been imbalanced, with Gavin giving up more and more of himself to be the kind of person who will remain at Nines' side. Maybe some of you readers will disagree with me or dislike where Gavin ended up. But I hope this answers a question I seemed to get a lot at the end of Russian Roulette. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking it out to the end. I know that this conclusion probably left you with a few questions but, well...who knows. Maybe some day those will get answered ;)


End file.
